More N Deliciousness

It was just after Religious School, and I'd run into our rabbi outside his office; he'd stopped to chat with me. Once N's friends had all dispersed, N joined us. Somehow, the topic turned to fruit; I think N was eating a tangerine.

"What kind of fruit has its seeds on the outside?" N asked suddenly. It's a 'riddle' he likes to bring up any time the word fruit arises in conversation; he learned it in his PE class, where the teacher throws them one or two word/logic type puzzles a week.

"A strawberry," Rabbi answered promptly.

I laughed; N is used to stumping people with that one. "Ah, see? Rabbi knew, N!"

N turned to me, rolling his eyes. "Duh, Mom. He's a rabbi. He's supposed to know everything."

Rabbi literally roared with laughter. Wiping his eyes, he patted N on the head. "Hate to break it to you buddy, but I don't know everything."

N looked at him levelly, then shrugged. "But you know God's name," he said. That, clearly, settled the issue; he turned and walked away, while Rabbi and I just looked at each other and grinned.

Dear name-of-God. That kid.

Your Son: An Email Exchange With N

[Verbatim. Because if this doesn't translate on its own--and it may not, I may be the only one guffawing here--no amount of embellishment or explanation is going to help.]

From: N
To: TC
Subject: your son

ples writght me back

love
your
n

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From: TC
To: N
Subject: Re: your son

Hi, my son! ;-)

I love you.

Love,
Mommy

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From: N
To: TC
Subject: Re: your son

ok wright more complents

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From: TC
To: N
Subject: Re: your son

I'm not sure what "complents" are. Do you mean compliments? Do you want me to tell you how much I love you? Or how good you are at golf? And how much I enjoy reading stories you write?

Love,
Mommy

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From: N
To: TC
Subject: Re: your son

to many questins

Dobby Has No Master, But He Does Now Have a Family

So we've been out and about a lot lately. I'm not just talking about my trip to New York with N, to see my folks and celebrate my mom's mumbledieth birthday (best reaction to a surprise ever!), or even to the fact that, while we were there, Em and Baroy spent a 12-plus-hour day at Disneyland. I mean I'm working more hours than usual; Em, at 13, has the social life of...well...an exceptionally busy 13-year-old; N has his 73 different after-school activities; and Baroy's been working on more than the usual number of projects, including a documentary about a special-needs soccer team. (No, N's not on it. More on all that one of these days.)

What all this means is that Snug's been on his own more than we'd like him to be. For most of the five years he's lived with us, he's had near-24-7 human companionship. But no more. And so we've worried. We've fretted. We've felt guilt.

Enter Dobby, that sleepy-headed, only-been-here-five-day-but-can't-imagine-life-without-him-already moppet at the top of this page. How ever did we find him? Via Facebook, natch.

Officially, we're doing a favor for one of Baroy's friends, a woman involved with a rescue group; the foster mom taking care of this particular mutt (and I mean mutt, since I see about 45 different breeds in him--from Wheaten to wolfhound to scotty to possibly corgi) was going out of town for a month, and she put up some photos and a plea for someone else to step in and fill the gap.

Step in we did. But any filling of gaps was all Dobby. Especially if you're talking about the gap in our family...the one we didn't even know we had.

And so, in less than a week, we've named him and bought him toys and taken him for walks and introduced him to friends and given him a new collar, tossing the raggedy one he came to us with. And while Snug pretends to find him annoying, the two of them are already spending half the day running around the backyard playing tug-o-war with one or another toy, and the other half sleeping butt to butt on the couch. At night, Snug has continued his working-dog tradition of curling up at the bottom of N's bed, a boy-guard like no other; Dobby's lost no time in staking out a place to stretch out alongside Em on her bed. (And here I thought it wasn't possible for things to get any more gaggingly cute at our house.)

As long as Snug gets his food first, and there are no bones to jealously guard from the interloper, and we make sure to ignore Dobby in favor of Snug when we walk into the house after any absence...he's plenty happy to share his home with the new kid in town.

Which is good, since there's not a chance Dobby's going anywhere.

People let me tell ya 'bout my best friend...