Tucson to teenager

The radio silence chez Melospiza has been due to an unprecedented spate of traveling--I've been three different places the past three weekends, and none of those places has been home. I'm craving some serious downtime, which, HAHA, try fifteen more years. Then you can have downtime, sister. In the meantime, it's the buy-decorate-be-thoughtful season, so go.

 I began the week in Tucson. Not a bad place to begin, if you can arrange it.

My hotel at 7 am. By this time the following day, I was already in Denver. It was...a very long day.

When I got home, Silas had a question. "When are you going to the store next?" he asked, and I thought he was going to ask for more borax. His class is doing the solutions and mixtures unit in science and he's been an experimental machine lately. He's also been something of a terror in the kitchen. We may never get the cornstarch out of the floorboards.

"Could you get some hair gel?"

Hair in the pre-comb phase. Now it's long enough for styling.

And so it begins, I thought. He's also been combing his hair a lot recently--five or six times a day.

The obvious assumption is that there's a female involved, but I haven't been able to ascertain any details and I'm kind of loathe to darken his mood, which has been uncharacteristically sunny and communicative (about borax and Legos, though, not girls, or sudden changes in cultural practices among fifth-grade boys.) And besides, I'm torn--on the one hand, I want to know everything, and on the other, I don't want to be intrusive. It's his life, he seems happy, and there don't appear to be any dangerous objects involved. I suppose we need to have some early version of The Talk, though.

Yikes.

After all, who could resist this guy, gelled hair or not?