For being born so close together, my boys have very distinct personalities and styles.
Alex, the oldest, is a red-haired, blue-eyed, off-charts-for-all-physical-measurements 10 year old. He is only 4 inches shorter than I am, which makes him the tallest kid in his class. He excels at sports and likes to play the big three — baseball, football and basketball (in case you were wondering), in what can only be described as the non-stop sports merry-go-round. He is sensitive (cries during A League of Their Own – LOVE that kid!), very smart, and thinks it’s cool that I paint my toenails royal blue in support of his baseball team.
Nick is younger by less than 15 months. He is a brunette, with brown eyes and average in all his physical dimensions. I’d describe him about “boob height” — and I only know that because he barged in on me in the bathroom the other day and had a direct view of my chest. Although, to tell the truth, the gals hang a little lower than they used to, so maybe I’m not giving him enough height credit. Nick loves sports as much as his brother and plays the same big three. He hasn’t reached the skill level of Alex, so he has to sit and watch a bunch of travel/All Star games and elite teams that his brother plays on. He is impish, smart-assy (LOVE that kid!) and has an affinity for creating erotic artwork by accident.
As the end of school is upon us, we are being bombarded with a bunch of papers and project work that the kids are bringing home. Note to teachers: This mom sucks and is not putting together volumes of Memory Books, so just go ahead and recycle that shit.
Nick tried to stealthly pull this out of his backpack, but I snatched it from him before he could get it in the trashcan. He said “I guess you’ll figure it out — I worked on it when I had some free time at school.”:
Wow. I’ve got two budding Picasso’s. Well, one budding Picasso. And one butting Picasso.