Bob is 8!

Thankfully, once one of your kids turns 8 and makes you feel old, the next one doesn't seem so bad. Bob got an electric guitar and he and Art took turns standing out on the sidewalk jamming for the cars driving by until Bob was almost IN the street and I had to yell at him to get back in the yard. (funny thing is, is that I can remember doing things as a little kid thinking that people were paying attention, like standing on the curb playing guitar to passing cars, thinking that... oh, I don't remember what I was thinking, but it was before you really come to realize how insignificant you are in the grand scheme of things and back when grand illusions are still possible. ignorance really was bliss before we grew up) They haven't turned the guitar off yet.

Fred did the cool dad thing and gave the boys a pocket knife when they turned 8. Art has been fairly resonsible with his, keeps it up where the little ones can't get to it, etc. Bob cut two different fingers with his before I was out of bed on Saturday. Now he has to have a grownup next to him while he is carving stuff. You should have seen his face when Fred gave it to him, though. His eyes lit up (and those of you familiar with him know how lit up they can get) and he was just ecstatic. "This is the best birthday EVER!" I'm glad he didn't know then that in 12 short hours the knife priviledges would be seriously curtailed and he could just enjoy it for the night.