I've often been told my family would make a great basis for a sitcom. What say you?
My son--the wild-haired, muscle-car-loving comedian, has finally decided to go to college. Since he forfeited the first full scholarship he got right out of high school in 2003, he merely reapplied this May and got another full scholarship. When he went to register the other day, his advisor told him he could skip English 101 and English Comp. 101 (with full credit) and take Eng. Comp. 102 if he scored at least 27 in English on the ACT. His total score was 30, but he couldn't remember his English score, so the registrar had to check it for him when he registered. When she discovered he'd made 33 in English, she asked him why he is an engineering major, then she suggested that after he gets his engineering degree, he should go to law school and become an attorney who represents engineers. He asked her if having a file with the Secret Service would make a difference in a law career. He wasn't kidding about the file.
My 16-year-old daughter is a Grammar Nazi and always wants to have a grammar discussion with me when it's her bedtime. Since she doesn't wear any jewelry, when I asked her the other day if she took my earrings, she replied, "To sell on the black market?" She has to be watched carefully in the grocery store because she has been known to sneak rice into the buggy when I wasn't looking. She's teaching herself Kanji/Kana, so when she leaves me notes, she writes them in Japanese with an English subtitle. The music she listens to while online is either Japanese, classical (she likes Wagner the most), Weird Al, They Might Be Giants, or Bon Jovi. Alexander Hamilton is her main man, and she carries a ten dollar bill around in her wallet with his picture showing. She's a vegetarian as a personal statement against the inhumane treatment of animals in the meat processing industry, she has a Ralph Nader poster hanging in her room, and she'd be happy with a moped as her first vehicle.
My 12-going-on-20-year-old daughter was drawing pictures on the computer the other night and called me to ask how she could blur out her characters' faces the way they do on "Cops." When I asked her why she wanted to do that, she told me she's writing a comic strip about somebody in the Witness Protection Program. When she was three years old, her daddy asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up and she replied, "The boss of the world," then she thought a moment and amended it to, "The boss of the universe." When she was four, she had an annoying habit of what she called "snocking" that was actually an appropriate name for the nasal sound she made doing it. When I reminded her one day that her daddy had told her not to do it anymore, she replied, "My daddy's not here right now." For this reason, she will never be allowed to date.
All three of them are gifted, of course. Maybe that's why they're so odd. Oh, and I wouldn't trade them for anything or change a single thing about them.