I used to think there was nothing worse than a bored 4-year-old. I stand corrected. Bored teenagers are just as fretful.
I was standing in the garage with my husband yesterday, having just gotten home from work, when the back door opened. My husband, Eric, who was facing the house, stopped mid-sentence in his explanation of the work he was doing to a fire truck in the back yard.
“That’s different,” he said.
I turned to look and saw our 17-year-old son, Matt, walk out of the house. With a, well, with a box on his head, I guess you could say. The box had a smiley face painted on, but he hadn’t bothered to put eye holes in it and he was trying to walk across the lawn.
Eric and I stood and watched his slow progress.
“He’s just odd,” Eric commented.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “But fun to watch.”
Later, Matt got smart enough to put eye holes in the box, plus he added a frown and eyebrows that were removable.
As I was making supper, he followed me around singing “Boxman” songs. Then got the brilliant idea of playing guitar as “Boxman.”
It was quite entertaining, actually. To the tune of “All the Small Things” he made up words about how great it was to be a Boxman. Not bad lyrics for working on the fly. Especially since I happen top know that lyrics are not his specialty.
Just to be safe, I left him a small list of chores to do today so I don’t come home and find the dog wearing a box or a tutu or something.