Befouled

Monday, February 9, 2009

The Devil's In The Details

My oldest son recently took practice tests for his college entrance exams. Having inherited his brains from the Lovely Bride, he did well.

He must have checked a box on a form somewhere requesting information from interested colleges. As a result, he's getting bombarded with emails. Having inherited his cynicism from me, he's taking it with a grain of salt.

"Who've you heard from?" I asked him.

"I don't know. Schools," he said.

"Forward them to me," I told him. "I'm curious."

He did. Emory. Columbia. Swarthmore. Iowa. Washington. Boston. Duke.

"Duke!" my youngest shrieked when he heard. "I can't believe it, you're being recruited by Duke!"

"They don't want me to play basketball, you moron," said the oldest.

The youngest continued to chatter. "You're going to be a Blue Devil!"

"God, he's stupid," the oldest said to me.

I shrugged.

"I'm going to UNC," the youngest said.

"Why? Do they have a good hobo program?" I asked.

Before he could answer our puppy attacked him.

"Cujo, kill," I urged.

He began rolling on the kitchen floor with her.

"He'll be lucky to get into middle school," said his brother.

"As long as we get him out of the house someday," I said.