During last night’s carpool to a high school dodgeball game, this brilliant exchange between my 14-year-old son, J. and his three friends ensued in my SUV.

Friend w/ Elijah Wood peepers: Dude—I love the pockets in these jeans. Your hands like totally don’t get stuck in them or whatev.
J.: Dude—I know. (dramatic pause) They’re pocket-y.
Pierced Friend (to Elijah): Dude—I like yer Abercrombie jeans. They’re all stretchy.
ELIJAH WOOD: I KNOW. My jeans are so awesome, I’m jealous of myself.

WE PAUSE FROM THIS INTELLECTUAL BANTER FOR AN IMPORTANT PRE-MENOPAUSAL UPDATE FROM THE MAMA:

Prescriptions are working nicely! Thanks for asking! I am enjoying more calm laid back moments like this one with these precious teen guys in my car. BTW, I'm fairly certain all were sober.

BACK TO THE STIMULATING SCHOLARS in SUV CHAT:

PIERCED (to a 'pretty boy' resembling foxy Kristy McNichol in her prime): Stop bouncing, dude.
KRISTY: Dude—I love this song.
J.: Ahhhhh! I’m gonna kick the crap outta him! Colton just texted. Dude is eatin’ a crunchwrap supreme at Taco Bell. I love those things with no tomatoes!!!

'Just right' pockety jeans, dodge ball, Taco Bell, music, and texting. They make the world go 'round for my teenangster and his buds at the moment.

ELIJAH WOOD: Dude—why do you hate black jeans so much?
J.: I don’t HATE ‘em, hate ‘em. I just hate ‘em becuuuuzzzz they’re black.

{Followed by a lengthy silence as the sk8rs ponder dark denim Jedi wisdom.}

Michele has a husband, two children, a master's in counseilng and a blog at hellolovelychild.blogspot.com.