Traveling Outside Our Box

 Sometimes the universe sends a message over email.

I'm still not sure where it came from or how it ended up in my inbox; a flyer calling all teens learning to drive to a safety rodeo somehow caught my attention amidst the usual spam and ads.

I scanned it; technically, my non teenager still qualified because we're still under aegis of our school district (thanks to COVD and the hot minute I had to take advantage of a legislative window) and having elder there would encourage younger to attend.

He was onboard anyway, because the location of the rodeo put us in the flightpath of his very specific pizza he's been asking for since January.  Elder, on the other hand, was not.  He complained bitterly the entire car ride there.  He stopped complaining when he saw the elevator at our destination.

And the piles of donuts that awaited in breakfast buffet pretty much ended all complaints.

Both kids sat near me; I was set up to work while they did the thing.  Two young girls commented on the older guys sitting off to the side, and I offered that they may be rides.  Younger sat down between us and promptly joined the conversation when "Pitch Perfect" was mentioned.

Hearing younger chatting up the ladies, elder turned his attention to the trio and introduced himself (over me) and the four chatted until the program started.  My guys were divided up, and the groups headed out. At this point, I could have wrapped up what I was doing but a) I was working and b) my presence would be disruptive. Plus, being away from them allowed me to have my own conversations with new people.

One of the stops was in the room where the program was set up; my younger guy sat in the back of his group; elder went up and did the demo.  Judging from the number of tickets they both had for raffles at the end, it seemed like they were participating.  And when they all gathered for the last part of the program, I didn't have to wonder;  both had plenty to say.

The best part of being away from the usual is that I get a fairly objective view of how the rest of the world sees them. And the glance I got yesterday says it isn't bad.

While they were attending the program, I ordered my first online food--the very specific pizza.  I arranged for pick up 20 minutes after the projected end of the program, which naturally ran late. Plus, elder had to be at work soon after.  With younger riding shotgun, we sped to our specific pizza, never mind there were at least 15 better pizza places on the way there.  I thought I was going to pick the food up myself, but the other two doors opened, out they hopped, and it all felt vaguely Blues Brothers.  The woman behind the counter wasn't expecting company, but she didn't seem to mind the boys' questions about the portal and the set up, but couldn't answer younger's queries on precisely how long the business was at this particular place. I asked for napkins, and away we went.

Of course we didn't have time to stop and eat, and the pizza place was take out only, so out came the napkins and pizza, and we all made short work of it. I laughed out loud at one point, napkined pizza in hand at a stop light, and announced that this tableau was so US.

The boys weren't amused.

Elder gets dropped off at work and I still have stops to make. And there was an awards ceremony both boys wanted to get to (that I hadn't bought tickets for because I hoped they would both forget about it).  As per usual, both of them had a very specific agenda, and they were united in their purpose; therefore, there was no way in hell they were missing this thing.

But elder was working, guaranteeing a late arrival. Hubby frantically looked for clothes that would fit, well, the three of them. Once he pieced together an outfit for elder, we went to pick him up from work, and hubby helped to get him dressed.  We walked in just as the award presentation was starting.

Both boys were murmuring about who they could see, who they wanted to see, and making a list of people to hit up once the ceremony was over. Dad and I periodically shushed them and told them they can talk all they wanted when the ceremony ended.  And when it did, they rocketed away from us.

"Should we follow them?" hubby asked.

I shook my head. This was their show, now. The two of them worked the room, systematically meeting and greeting every single person they wanted to talk to.  And many of those people came over to us, anyway.  Many of them have known both kids for a long time, and had a lot to say about how far they've come. I laugh and say all I can see is the road ahead.

The boys bring people over to us, and then are off again, meeting, greeting, working the room. 

They are so uniquely them. I love them and all their extra.

"This," I say to hubby, gesturing to the room, "is why."