My son recently married, and with the marriage came a little toy poodle named Daisy. Daisy is NOT a manly name and a toy poodle is definitely NOT a manly dog. So Ryan, who was deprived of a dog in his youth, decided he needed a dog of his own, a boxer named Diesel. Now Diesel is a name a man can use in public without being embarrassed.
Only now Ryan calls me on the phone to talk about, of all things, puppy poop--how often, where it is found and the texture. Seriously. If I tire of this conversation I can always call Camille, and talk about her daughter Carly. At three weeks of age the topic invariably seems to come around to poop as well. “All she does is eat, sleep and . . .” You get the picture.
I remember as a young mother I felt overwhelmed with diapers and baby babble. I looked forward to the days when my children would grow up and be able to carry on intelligent conversations. And they did. But then they got married . . .
The cycles of life, I suppose. :-)