I had a conversation with a friend last night over Facebook Messenger. Her son is one of Charley's good friends and this conversation was just the one I needed to have after a tough afternoon with a sulky child who seems to be surprised every time I point out that age 10 is very much still part of childhood and that that means I still get to say "no" to things sometimes.
Me: Tonight I mentioned something about a fifteen passenger van to Ryan and Charley piped up, "Fifteen! That's how many kids Anne Hutchison had before Indians killed six of them!!" I can't stop laughing. #casualdinnertalk
Her: D keeps bringing home grubs. He's trying to breed beetles.
Me: Boys, man. Charley got really pissy because I wouldn't let him roast carrots over an open flame in a pot he made from a beer can. It looked like he was cooking meth in the driveway when I came home from work. When I shut it down he threw a lawn chair, wrestled a playground ball away from Wes, and threw it high up in a tree, where it got stuck.
Her: I caught D last week roasting marshmallows over a stove. Just holding the marshmallow... no stick. Just his fingers. Drawer full of skewers right next to him.
Me: Oh gosh. C once started a fire in our microwave because he was trying to microwave a pine cone. Someone told us that if you put microwaves in the oven it makes the house smell nice, but he knows he can't use the oven so...
Me, a moment later: I often wonder how evolution explains adolescent boys.