So...over the years, I have spent a fair amount of time with boys.
I had a lot of guy friends in high school...and by that I mean they were FRIENDS. Don't go making any innuendos that weren't there!
And now, I spend a lot of time with boys.
Not just any old boys...the boys in my family.
Well, and The Little Man, who falls into that category too...temporarily a member of the family.
And the friends of the boys in my family.
OK, that just sounds weird...I don't hang out with the friends of my sons...but I am around them on occasion.
And if you know anything at all about boys, they can be rude.
And largely lacking in filter.
I will tell you (in case you don't know him live and in person), one of my boys (you can probably guess which one if you DO know him live and in person, but in order to protect his anonymity, I won't tell you which one) kind of really lacks filter.
If I draw a line in the sand for him, he doesn't sidle up next to it and precariously stick a toe over...he takes a flying leap across it, beginning with a running start.
But I digress...
For this particular child, sometimes I am never quite certain what he is going to say or do.
Sometimes HE is never quite certain what he is going to say or do.
But enough with the backstory...here's what I came here to tell you:
So...we are on vacation.
It is a beach vacation.
A lovely beach vacation...full of opportunities to lounge by the pool or on the beach. And perhaps even catch a little cat-nap.
I was doing such a thing (if you know me at all, this probably surprises you, but I promise that on vacation...a beach vacation...I can relax)...this after spending a few hours on the beach and coming in to rest in the shade by the pool.
We all came up to get out of the sun for a little while.
I was on the fringe of dozing off when I heard this statement from the mouth of a PBA member: I'm leaving my ball out so it can dry.
Immediately awake and alert, imagine my delight when I saw my son's football resting on the ledge in the sun...where it could dry.