Monday, April 7, 2008


I grabbed the ringing phone at the office, and lo, it was my son, Dylan. Since he doesn't often call the office, it was a shock to hear his voice. A nice shock, as far as shocks go, anyway.
"What's up?" I ask.
He tells me that he's filling out paperwork and needs some personal information. He begins asking his questions. I begin answering. "What paperwork are you filling out, anyways?" I ask.
"Oh," he says, "I have to pick my beneficiary."
These are the decisions that adults make. I take a deep breath. It keeps hitting me anew. Dylan's all grown up. It just doesn't seem possible. I'm not quite sure what to say next.
Dylan solves that problem. He offers up the opinion that he might blow his tax refund on hookers, hard drinking, and games of chance in Las Vegas. He knows I'll lecture him.
He's just trying to make me feel better.
It works, a little.

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