There is pop music. There are sports. There are sports jerseys, sports shoes, sports gloves, and, most of all, sports numbers. Will he be 23 like Michael Jordan or 0 like Russell Westbrook? He used to want to be 28 like Adrian Peterson but that was before AP beat his son with a switch. There are shooting sleeves and football towels and a different pair of cleats for every sport. There is the eternal question–Nike or Under Armour. Probably there are girls, but he doesn’t mention them to me. There are some things you don’t talk to your mom about, he says. He lives for open gym, three-on-three tournaments, summer rec, flag footballl. He is in awe of his own body, and if I had his muscles, I’d spend a lot of time flexing and admiring myself too. There are cars–Mustangs and Escalades and Lamborghinis and Bugattis and old Ford trucks and any classic car painted turquoise and the new boxy Kia, especially if it’s the lime-green one. There are rims. There are crotch rockets. There are dirt bikes and Harleys. There is the particular revving of an engine that he likes. “Boy noise,” he calls it, knowing I don’t get it in a big way. There are video games and TV commercials. There is much debate with other boys over who is the strongest, who is the fastest. There is a deep mistrust of showers and toothbrushes. There is the other eternal question–NFL or NBA. The struggle is real for him. “I just don’t know which one to choose!”
the dirigible plum 
Leave a Reply