The Difference Between Boys and Girls

Running has become somewhat of a family affair at my house.  And lest I doubt whether or not there is an innate difference between boys and girls...



What running with my daughter looks like.

What running with my son looks like.

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And while we're on the subject of kids and differences--

Nelly and I stopped at a convenience store for a drink after a baseball game the other day.  

"Insane thirst" and "urgent need to find a restroom" are introducing me to all sorts of areas I might not otherwise see here in LaLa Land.

Let's just say that this particular location upon which we stumbled is probably best frequented during daylight hours. 

Anyway, while we were inside, this man kept hovering around us.  He wasn't threatening, or rude exactly, but he just felt a little "close."  

And I noticed that I kept positioning myself in such a way that my 5' 9", "completely ripped" sixteen-going-on-seventeen, son was between me and the hovering man.

Hello?!?!

When did THAT happen?  

I swear that if  we had entered that convenience store just yesterday, I would have scooped up my little red-headed four-year-old in my arms--physically placing myself between my son and the stranger.

And before everyone  the three of you who read this get crazy thinking that I'm a horrible person, please know that had that guy pulled a knife or a gun, you wouldn't believe the mad Ninja skills I'd summon to get between him and my kid.  

It's just gone by too. stinking. fast.  Them being little and stuff.

I love them.  My teenagers and adult children.  They are the coolest people on the planet.  And I feel blessed every day to get to be their mom.

But sometimes I really miss the kids that they were.

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In completely unrelated news--

I think our kitty might have been bitten by a radioactive spider.