The Boy and his friends are gathered at the house for an afternoon of Warhammer. There are five of them, all 14- and 15-year-olds. They are polite, a bit goofy, gathered for a good game, and ever so smart, each one of them. They are all just a little nerdy. One boy in particular should audition to be the next Harry Potter.
I am feeding them ribs and burgers for dinner. They have all turned down salad and vegetables. They want Coke, but we no longer stock that. They look crestfallen. One of them has volunteered to go get some.
Five young men in the house. I love their uniqueness. But you know, I'm just not feeling a whole lot of testosterone gathered here. I guess that's why I still refer to The Boy as The Boy.
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