Goodnight

I've been in the habit, of late when Andrew goes to bed, of saying things like 'goodnight sweetheart'. He always protests 'I'm not sweetheart'. Ok, I can go with that; 'goodnight honey cheeks'. 'I'm not honey cheeks'. And so on...

All in good fun and he takes it so.

Last night (Saturday night) he was at Austins place to play poker. I have to admit that when I first learned that they play for money I was a trifle concerned. They were playing for 50 cent stakes on my kitchen table! He's only fourteen; did we really want him and his mates playing poker for money? But Sonya made a good point; if they're playing poker we know where they are and what they're doing. At least they're not hiding booze under bushes.

Of course she said the same thing about Morgan a few years ago but let's be charitable.

Poor Andrew. He's under much closer surveillance. He's protested more than once that neither Shelby nor Morgan had to put up with what he has to put up with. I'll give the kid his due; when we tell him that we don't want him to become Morgan he understands. I think he's got a good head on his shoulders.

Last night was British Comedy night. A rare and all too precious oasis. In the gap PBS inflicts between programs I had an evil idea. I asked Sonya to hand up the phone. As she said later, she wondered who the heck I was going to call!

When Andrew answered the phone I said:

'In case I forget later, goodnight apple dumpling!'

He spluttered. But I could hear the laughter. He's going to turn out just fine!