Boys. And Dogs.

Two sure signs that I am getting old: 1. My dog has arthritis, and 2. All the little boys that used to come over and play with Mitch are now lanky teenager-types that come over and sit in my basement. One of them who I haven't seen for a while showed up tonight. I didn't recognize him at first. He was tall. And his voice had changed. And he had learned how to talk. He also had my dog with him. He had found her sitting on the front lawn. In her younger, spryer years, the dog would jump the back fence and run away. Now she hoists herself over the back fence, moseys around to the front yard and plops herself down on the lawn. The boy thought it was kind of funny that Maggie didn't run away anymore. I thought it was kind of funny how fast he grew up. I think there is some juxtaposition in there somewhere.

More signs of my age: Duncan is now taller than me, his voice is changing, and he is going to need a shave soon. Duncan is supposed to be one of the little kids, (insert d-word here)-it! And my little boy, Will turns 12 in a couple months. Which means I am about to be fresh out of little boys.

On the flip side, judging from the noise level coming from the basement where my elder son and his lanky, hungry friends are hanging out, there is going to be a pretty good dose of boy-headedness going on around here for some time to come.