Wit

As we were getting ready to drive to Detroit for my niece's high school graduation party, Casey walked up to me and said, "How old are you again?"

"Forty-three," I replied.

"Huh," he said. "I could've sworn it was in the 50s."

I love that kid. I'd like to kill him most of the time, but I love that kid. Not that long ago, when his brother was annoying him, Casey exclaimed, "Stop being annoying like me!"

Of course, Amy thinks that he takes after me. That doesn't really bode well for what she thinks of me, because he drives her nuts. Casey, for his part, does still view me as a co-conspirator... and apparently I'm not good at setting myself apart as an adult. 

All too often, when Casey is pretending to be a zombie to frighten Marty -- who's an easy mark, since his entire strategy is just to say, "I am a zombie" -- I guess I'm not really supposed to join in. (Have I mentioned just how easy a mark Marty is?)

Casey, of course, was all about going to the graduation party. His cousin is a beautiful 18-year-old girl, with many friends just like herself. Casey considers himself to be in his element in that crowd. There's a possibility that someday life with slap the ego out of him, but it would take a lot to get him to notice. 

He believes himself not just popular, but a stellar singer and dancer who is only days away from being discovered ala Justin Bieber. Unfortunately, his opinion of his talents and the reality don't really mesh.

I'll give him credit, though, he goes along to his own beat. He was in an Apple store playing with a new iPod. While Marty was playing games on a different model, Casey was wearing headphones hovering over one of the displays. I wandered past one time to find him watching an episode of "The Office." A few minutes later, I looked again and noticed him bobbing his head. Then, with the headphones on, he was dancing as though he was all set for a flashmob to show up and join him.

When I walked over to see what he was listening to, I found out that it was '60s bossa nova king Sergio Mendes.

While Casey is the one that normally hurls insults at me, it's not like he's entirely alone. 

One day, as they were climbing into the minivan, Marty looked at me and said, "When you and mom get divorced, we're going to go live with Mom and her new husband. Just so that you know." 

Picking up the cue, Casey said, "It's not that we don't like you, it's just that we like Mom better." 

"Yeah," Marty said. "She's our mom after all."

As I tried to debate whether to ask if Mommy's new husband had a name -- fearing that I might get an answer -- Casey smirked at me and said, "Don't worry, maybe you can dress up like a baby and start coming to our daycare."

I love that kid.