Five third graders in my car. Today. All boys. Never having been an 8 year old boy, I cannot possibly conceive of how they think.
Stories. There were many stories. Stories that seemed probable… but then became larger than life.
There were neighbors who owned peacocks and a Dad who wrestled a big alligator that lived in a ditch next to the house. That one for some reason had some ring of truth to it. To hear an 8 year old say, “We had to call Animal Control…” just seemed too logical to be part of a made up story. Whether Dear Old Dad actually wrestled that gator is another matter.
A couple of these boys are really into watching BMX on TV as well as skateboarding. I heard names that are evidently legendary by their standards, but recognized only one, Tony Hawk, as I’ve seen computer games with his name on it. Otherwise, that name would have been lost on me as well.
And so the stories were told as we made the 40 minute haul to the Planetarium and the 40 minute haul back to school… boys who got stuck in the nose by fishing hooks. Boys who had enormous toads stuck in their commodes (that would be my boy, by the way). And one boy who said nothing, but just took it all in.
I kept prompting him, afraid he thought perhaps he could not get a word in with these 4 other chatty boys. He kept insisting, “I don’t have any stories.”
Heh. I can see why. Who can top Peacocks as pets and a Dad who wrestles gators?