I picked up my boy and the 3 other 13 year-old members of the summer rat pack to make a quick three-minute drive to the pool. (It was approximately 2.8 miles from the house.)

Along the way I was serenaded by various speeches spoken in Chinese, Pig Latin, Spanish and what I can only assume was German. They managed to give each other way too many punches, pinches and noogies – all the while managing to spot EVERY single punch bug and yellow and orange vehicle along the way. (The ceiling of my car is still in pain.)

They teased each other relentlessly about would be girlfriends –their names- and whose photos may or may not be screensavers on certain I-phones.

And when they hurriedly exited the car to join the other thousand tweens that were spending a glorious day at the pool, one of them noticed the book laying on the floor of my car.

“A Discovery of Witches? A Discovery of WITCHES? Yeah. That MUST be a typo!”

And they all ran from the car in a roar of hysteria over someone’s moment of brilliance.

And me?

I laughed the whole way home. Surely that boy gets his quick wit from his mother.

And yes, she thought it was funny. (Not in front of THEM, but she thought it was funny, indeed.)