The Story of a Boy

I'm sitting on the couch in the living room, enjoying my coffee and blogroll. Of course I'm wearing pajamas because it's summer and I can. Out the front window I see a car, "Oh, crap. Who's pulling into our driveway?"

I make a mad scramble to get dressed and return to living room to determine the owner of the blue car. I look outside again and....it's Matthew. Hoo boy. Let me introduce you to Matthew the way I met him...

Step into the Wayback Machine with me and I'll set the dial for March of 1993. We are living in our new house, which is currently buried under a lot of snow. We had record cold the day we moved in, and who doesn't want to move furniture out of one place and into another when it's twenty be-fucking-low zero?

We were pleased, when we first looked at the house, to see the Little Tykes playhouse in the next-door neighbor's backyard. Our kids were three-and-a-half and eighteen months old at the time, so a neighborhood with little kids would be a plus.

One Wednesday morning that frosty March, I returned from my ladies bowling league (shut up) in my sister's minivan. We had only one vehicle at the time, and Husband was at work with the car. As I was standing next to the open side door of the minivan trying to extricate car seats, a snow-suited little lad of about five walks right up to the open door of the van, leans in, and takes a good look around.

"This is cool!" he said.

"Yeah? You like it?" I asked.

"Me and that girl," he said, pointing to my three-year-old-daughter, "we could have a good time in this van."

THAT was Matthew. I met his mother a little later, though I didn't share that story with her for a couple years, after we had become pretty close friends. Even so, she was torn between mortification and amusement.

Matthew and his younger brother were my kids' constant companions. Loved 'em. Loved their parents. Really nice people. But Matthew had a habit as a child of walking right in. No knocking, not even the typical little kid move of shading your eyes to be able to see into the house while you holler your friend's name. Just open the door, walk right in and make yourself at home. So we learned to keep the screen door locked, at least while the kids were napping because Matthew? Would walk into their rooms and wake them up.

When we first moved in, Matthew was Darkwing Duck. He dressed like Darkwing Duck, including the cape, and lived the Darkwing Duck life in his head. Over the years he transformed. For awhile he was the Green Power Ranger, for awhile he was the White Power Ranger. My favorite was the Sonic the Hedgehog period when he would ONLY wear blue sweats and red socks, because that how Sonic rolls. His mother was certain everyone would think she only bought the kid one outfit. In reality, she bought more than one set, so they could rotate.

Something you have to understand about Matthew is that he is extremely hyperactive. This manifests itself mostly in his conversation rate. Once he gets started, he is very hard to stop. Now Matthew is twenty-one- years old, and a senior in college. His passion in life is for film and writing (about film). He would be an absolute genius film critic because, damn, can he write, and he's seen every flippin' film you've ever heard of. Matthew has to have the complete set. Of whatever.

For right now, he works a cash register at a local superstore, wherein his greatest joy is making coochie-coo noises at fat little babies. I'm not sure what the attraction is, but Matthew loves him some chubby little cheeks.

So I had a protracted conversation today with Matthew because that's the only kind there is. Then he mentioned Joss Whedon, and I was able to introduce Matthew to the glory that is Dr. Horrible's Sing-a-Long Blog. I only let him watch part one, because that sucker is about forty minutes long. So I sent Matthew on his way, and you know what? He turned out okay. But some film class this fall is going to be steeped in Dr. Horrible-ness.

Comments

[erin]

Yay WhedonTube and Dr. Horrible! We stayed up way too late last week watching the first 2 parts.
I love the wayback machine, and isn't it great when neighborhood kids become part of your family?

[Captain Dumbass]

Last night, while out on a post-prandial walk (that COULD be spelt incorrectly) we ran into Layla and her father Amir, our new neighbours across the street. My oldest will be a little old for her, but I'm sure Layla and my youngest will get to know each other quite well. We'll have to talk about how well though because Amir looks like he could snap me in half.

[Jess]

I think it is just too fun to watch kids grow up. I have only been here for a short time myself, but watching my brothers has been more than entertaining and I am so proud to call them my brothers!

[Middle-Aged-Woman]

Erin - I am willing for this one to be a distant relative. He can be exhausting. But sweet.

Captain Dumbass - we'll just call it the everywhere-in-the-English-speaking-world-except-the-U.S. spelling. Because I am too lazy to look it up.

[Middle-Aged-Woman]

Jess - I read your post about your brothers, and you really showed how proud. Good for them (and you)!

[Kat]

I had a friend like this growing up. He was great. When we moved down to South Carolina after doing much of my growing up in N. Virgina, I thought my heart was going to fall out of my chest from missing my hyperactive, totally genius best friend, Ben.

I later found him again through Myspace. He is still a genius, just an unemployed artist type.

[Middle-Aged-Woman]

Gaaaah! Don't say that too loud. If Matthew's mom sees the word 'unemployed' she'll freak!