Hey there, WYMOP readers!
I may have mentioned this before, but my son, Handsome, is growing up. I’m not even kidding. The day he turned fourteen he was already bigger than me—not just taller, but bigger. If you’re a regular WYMOP reader, you may have already gotten the story of his fairly sophisticated and perfectly executed plan for last Christmas (if not, see Your Mission, Should You Choose To Accept It . . .). He seems to constantly be doing little things here and there—his own laundry, cooking, and being more diligent in his studies, for some examples—that drive home to me just how grown-up he’s becoming.
So when the basement became available (a family member who’d been living there moved out), I wasn’t surprised when he put in an immediate claim for it; he’d long outgrown his own little bedroom, and had just been waiting for this opportunity. First, though, I had my own demands: some work needed to be done down there before he moved in. The family room had been finished down there before we’d bought the house, but it was kind of a shoddy job, and though I wasn’t going to make him wait while I ripped it all out and started from scratch, some serious plaster and paint work needed to be done down there, and that just for starters.
I put in the time skim coating and sanding the walls and ceiling (you’re not supposed to see any screws or seams in finished drywall, never mind every), and the time had come to prime and paint. I informed Handsome he was helping with this part (to be fair, he did offer to help with the sanding, but I sent him outside to shovel snow instead), and he informed me that his girlfriend, Miss D, was also helping. It seems they’d discussed it before I even mentioned anything; yet another sign that my boy is growing up.
Miss D did the cutting in with a brush while Handsome and I worked the rollers, and in less than two hours the patchwork of new joint compound and old salmon paint (yup, salmon. I told you it needed work!) was the uniform gray of fresh Kilz®. I stood looking at the job we’d done, reflecting on the fact that this was all just another step in my little boy’s journey toward adulthood. He’ll be driving in about a year and a half. Then comes graduation, followed by college, and then—
I’d started to feel a little overwhelmed, when I glanced over at Handsome. There stood my six-foot tall, soon-to-be driving, future high school graduate and college student, face wreathed in a beatific smile . . . using his roller to carefully apply an even coat of Kilz to his entire latex-gloved hand.
I let out a sudden, relaxed breath. It was good to see some things don’t change.
Talk to you later!