When I arrived home from work this evening, my 14-year-old son James was singing -- singing?? -- in his room. Bouncy, beaming, grinning, joking... the usual teenaged angst has mysteriously disappeared for now. Happily singing Pink Floyd... loudly.
patgreene has made him close the door to his room.
He's singing again, loudly, after dinner. I think I know what is going on... this seems strangely familiar, and yet not. Turns out that earlier this evening, he had an hour-long telephone call to A. Limerence... I recognize NRE when I see it. Heh. If I saw this in one of my friends, I'd probably think, "aw, cuuute...:)" . He doesn't know what has hit him, methinks. He's flying... I can only wonder how A is doing, this evening. It bears monitoring, although they both have common sense...