Last night on my way home from MacCool's (where a lamb rib appetizer stole the show!) I got a call from Ken, informing me that Q had broken his arm and that they were both at the ER. Of course my mind immediately went to that time when Ken took Dylan (who was an emerging toddler) to the ER because Dylan had swallowed some "virgin staples" (yes, you just read that correctly), and the first thing I noticed when I joined them was that none of Dylan's clothes matched and also he wasn't wearing shoes even though it was, like, February. So as I drove to the ER last night I prayed that Quinton was at least wearing shoes.
Anyway. I found Q (with shoes), laid up on an ER bed with Ken at his side.
"What happened?" I asked.
"I was bouncing on a pogo stick in the church parking lot and fell backwards," my seventeen year-old son replied.
"Why were you bouncing on a pogo stick? Is that a vegetarian thing or what?"
I know. I have now reduced everything I don't understand about my son to the fact that he is a vegetarian, which I also don't understand, because hello. Why would you be a vegetarian in a world where lamb ribs drizzled with blue cheese exist?
Meanwhile, the good news is that his arm isn't broken after all! Yay! The bad news is that he'll be back on the pogo stick as soon as he gets the chance. Because that's how my family is. Dude. You fall off a pogo stick, you get back on. We're gymnasts that way.