I have no idea why I bother to go to bed early; I just wake up earlier in the morning and get the same net amount of sleep.

The Boy is on a track system at his school (which basically means he has school year round: his breaks are shorter, but there are more of them), and the last day of this period was yesterday. No school for him today, and no school for the next three weeks. He starts the indoor soccer league on October 7th, and he’s sort of mopey about not having school. He really likes school, and he REALLY likes his teacher.

Last night I felt like doing something to celebrate his getting through the first school period with no referrals or pissed off classmates (take your victories where you can, says I), so we went down to the movie theatre and bought tickets for the next thing showing, which turned out to be Rat Race. It could have been worse, and there were some funny parts. Justin enjoyed it, which was really the whole point. (Jackie was at class last night, and somehow I don’t think she really minded missing this one.)

Rat Race has been out for at least a month now and we went to the 5:30 show, so we essentially had the theatre to ourselves. We sat in the really ‘good’ row (the one with the metal rail to put your feet up on), alone, and spent half the movie laying crosswise on the seats like a couch. Justin used my knees for a pillow for awhile. We got something to eat at Popeyes afterwards, went home, watched some Farscape I’d already seen but that he hadn’t, and I sent him to bed.

A good night. One of those nights that I’m going to wax nostalgic about in 2 years or less, when the Boy:

• has become surly and withdrawn
• begins to resent… everything, me in particular.
• When I have to pass advice to him through a neutral 3rd party, because he won’t listen if I say it. I’m a little bit too much of a Dad and not enough “cool Uncle” anymore.

I’m not a pessimist, I have a good memory; in retrospect, I’m surprised my Dad and I survived those years intact, emotionally or physically. God I was a self-centered pain the ass.

Yes, worse than now. :)

But last night was a good night. We laughed, we wrestled, we knocked stuff over and got the dog all worked up. He hugged me before he went to bed because HE wanted to, and wished his daddy good night.

If I’m really, really lucky, I figure I’ve got about… 600 more nights like that. Maybe. Then I’m his Uncle Nazi for 4 or 5 years. I hope I have a couple toddlers to adore me by then.

It’s funny, because I’m actually in the same boat as my dad. I was born on his 21st birthday, so when I was 11, he was 32… okay, I’m a couple years younger, but somehow I don’t think that’s going to help me much. I hope it will; I’ve always said that when my kids hit puberty I wanted to be young enough to remember the stupid shit I did and old enough not to be in denial about them doing the same thing.

I’m not in denial: I hope the stupid shit I did in high school is as far as he gets. That wouldn’t be so bad.

Whoo. Meandering post. The sun’s up.