HE GROWS UP AND HE GROWS UP . . .

The Little Cheechster is leaving for Phoenix on Saturday. (Saturday morning at 4:15am to be precise, not that I'm already sleepy at the prospect.) WHAT THE!?!??!?!

When did he outgrow his perfectly round bowl cut? When did he lose his fangs and remove his dorky and supremely shiny braces? When did he grow taller than me? When did he achieve and do everything he has achieved and done? When did I say he was allowed to leave my 30-mile radius and fly four and a half hours across the country to some Godforsaken barren desert land that doesn't even have normal trees? Oh, for crying out loud. No one listens to me anyway.

But it's not all about me. I know that. Cheech heads out to begin his career as a potential pediatric surgeon. I can't imagine anyone better suited for the job. All you pediatric surgeons out there better watch out because Cheech just might put you out of a job (provided he studies hard and doesn't waste anymore brain cells). I just wish he would do his prep work closer to home ...

***

HARDY HAR-HAR . . .

Mens' gymnastics just cracks me up. Like when they do their floor routine: they do their crazy flips across the diagonal line of the box, but since they never land perfectly in the opposite corner, they do this dorky wide step with their arms stretched overhead and wide. SO DORKY. Don't get me wrong. These guys get serious air. They are seriously buff. I bet their training is seriously hard and gut-wrenching. And I know they have worked their entire lives to get here, to achieve the pinnacle of their sport.

But I still giggle and imitate them dorkily at work, at church, at my friends' houses, in my parents' basement, anywhere where someone will giggle with me ...

(N.B.: what is up with the weirdly high-pitched and squeaky voices of male gymnasts? Is it a growth-stunted-wasn't-allowed-to-experience-full-puberty-because-of-serious-physical-training thing? It's soooo creepy.)

***

SAP-O-RAMA . . .

I knew what happened in the mens' individual gymnastics competition seven hours ago.

But of course, I still teared up when Paul Hamm, the American individual competitor, won the all-around by 0.012 points, the first gold individual medal for an American male gymnast.

I stopped tearing, however, when I saw the anguish on the Korean gymnast's face -- he who had been in first place until Paul Hamm stepped up to be the last man on the high bar. Sigh. Who do I root for? Dang ...

***

SNIFF, SNIFF . . .

My family had our last dinner as a whole family unit tonight, at least until Thanksgiving, or maybe even Christmas. What a weird concept. My parents will have a truly empty nest ... my hope is that they maximize this opportunity and continue going on their little dates and drives. I hope they don't wallow, what with Cheech so far away and me out of the house for good. (Lord knows I do enough wallowing of my own ...)