If you’ve been here before, you likely know that my nine year old son is one of a kind. For real. That thing about breaking the mold? He cracked that sucker straight in half.

When other kids would rather shuffle from classroom to classroom without making eye contact, I’ve been told that every time my kid sees his music teacher in the hallway, he greets her with, “La, la, la, la, la!”

He has no problem telling strangers that he thinks they’re pretty, he can convince anyone that he shouldn’t get punished for something and he has a way of wiggling into situations in which he has no business. Last week, when we went to get his new glasses, he got the technician to let him adjust his own glasses with that little heater they use.

He’s a nine year old used-car salesman in the body of a five year old.

Last night at his Cub Scout meeting, the boys played a game where they blew a ping-pong ball across a table. If they let the ball fall onto the floor, they were out. My son lost round after round.

When we were heading to the car after the meeting he said, “That game was fun, but I lost every time!”

I replied, “Well, somebody had to lose. As long as you had fun while you were playing and you tried your best, it doesn’t really matter.”

For a moment he considered my philosophy. Then he said, “Yeah, but I don’t think I could blow the ball across the table because I don’t have enough hot air.”

Really? Because I think you’re pretty full of it.

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