eleven


Yeah – so our god son turned…. eleven.

Birthday party included Elise’s brother, parents and Andy’s sister, kids and his parents.

Eleven….

I mean it really doesn’t feel like over a decade ago that I was running out with the then prego devcubber for our ritualized afternoon carb binge at this little restaurant client we had who paid for their graphic identity with metric tons of tortellini.

Soon the boy is going to start smelling funny and resenting adults.

In preparation, we’ve started preparing our covert safety net:
We’ve been trying to frame ourselves as just “contrary enough” to the “rule-of-mom” – so we’ll hopefully continue to be seen as the “cool guys”… a refuge from “mean ole mom”…

Of course Elise isn’t mean – she’s a typical mom… Concerned guidance just turns into iron-fisted oppression through the teenage reality filter.

So our theory is if *he* perceives us as advocates into the turbulent times ahead, (and if he even feels compelled to rebel and run off), he’ll “escape” to us… rather than retreating through bad friends, situations, choices, etc.

Watch – he’ll be an angstless angel in the years to come and all this well-intended mind-fuck chess will be for naught.

Eleven…

what was I babbling about?