Don't Sweat It

A few months ago, I measured Freestone and put a pencil mark on the door frame.  I knew he was about to grow, and he does seem to be shooting up like an adolescent weed.  I can't believe he is already to this point!  Ari and Free started before-school ballroom dance this week.  I swore I wasn't going to sign up for anything else, but Free wanted to do it, and it would really be out of character for me to say no to a dance class.   He was so excited at the introductory meeting to see many of his friends.  The next day, he recruited more boys to do it.  He had listened carefully to all the instructions the teacher gave, and told Scott and me that he needed to have deodorant in his backpack at all times.  I guess there's nothing wrong with smelling clean and powerful!  Free wanted to make sure the deodorant was for boys, so I told him that if it was for girls, it wouldn't say, "Ultra Max."  He said it just reminded him of baking soda.  Arm & Hammer might want to think about rebranding their men's deodorant.  Nothing says "emasculating" like a cookie ingredient.

Nevertheless, I'm sure Freestone will smell just great.  I told him yesterday while he was practicing violin at a terminally ill snail's pace, "Don't worry.  You don't move fast enough to sweat, anyway."

Maybe the foxtrot will change all that.