Another house full of teenagers.

This time, it's four sophomore boys, good friends, making sure each other is caught up on the Batman series, Batman Begins and The Dark Knight before The Dark Knight Rises comes to theatres near us all.

They're waiting for dinner in the middle of the first film and the conversation drifting through the patio window and into the kitchen is pure boy, pure friend and funny. Mine is such a movie buff he's got them all memorizing things he thinks they'll need to know soon. One is astute at pointing out juxtaposition, etc. One has a sunburn and the other is recouping from knee surgery.

I couldn't be happier to be the mom on call for the overnight. I'll make sure they have fruit with their Dinner-on-a-bread-slice, but that will be the only imposition. Personally, I'm not too fond of The Dark Knight. I went along to see it, because I do that, but it was for me, a truly disturbing movie. I agree that Nolan is a brilliant director, but the anarchy and reasonless terror is more than I care to stand. I've heard over and over about how perfect the late Heath Ledger was at the Joker but I wish it weren't the last performance he left for us.

The night comes on the heels of a sweet family video night. The one where my Dear and the boy and I spent two weeks in Pebble Beach at my Aunt Nancy's while she was in Britain. My guy was little, just 9 months old, crawling, standing and bouncing, and laughing lots. At one point I look to camera as my husband documents and say something about being the most blessed girl on the planet, while the little man sleeps in my arms. Just before bed my son and I met in the kitchen and he asked, in jest, "so how blessed do you feel now Mama?" We laughed and I said, "Just the same. The most blessed. Or maybe, a little more." 


I know him now as a young man and couldn't be more happy to be this mom.