Rowan is Twelve and Skinning

Rowan turned 12 this October and has once again baffled me. His new means of intrigue is taxidermy. Remember when he wanted to be President of the United States and made me go and judge a debate so that he could learn how to out talk his opponents? Presidency and debating are things of the past and he now wants to pursue professional taxidermy. Meaning, he skins whatever animals he can get his little mitts on. Which right now means moles.

So for his birthday he got a pellet gun from us and he used his birthday money from his grandparents to invest in flesh scraping tools, scalpels, and de-greaser. The birthday money that usually goes into the bank for college. Apparently taxidermists don't have to go to college, but they do need sharp knives.

This hobby has once again rocked my world. Here's a vingette from this week.

Rowan walks into the house with bloody gloves on and says, "I'd have no problem being a doctor, this kind of stuff doesn't bug me at all."
My eyes light up. "Are you interested in becoming a doctor Rowan?"
"Nope. Do you think I could get a frozen bobcat to skin for Christmas?"
"I'll be in my room, please don't let anyone disturb me until the crying is no longer audible."

His birthday brought another unexpected change to our family. I bought Rowan the TV series, "The Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew." They were filmed in the 70's and I had watched them when I was little (on Saturday right after Hee-Haw). We watched the first one as a family and almost died laughing. The only thing is...they weren't supposed to be funny. But they were.

The first result of watching several of these episodes was that people started getting paranoid. Rowan thought the mail was being pilfered by a strange man (the newspaper deliverer). Avonlea heard musical chords in the night. When I ran into the door in the dark, my first thought was that an intruder attacked me.

The second result is that we were exposed to the music of Shaun Cassidy (AKA Joe Hardy) and vibed with his groove.
Way.too.much.fun.

Dance parties followed and I got my stiff boys loose and laughing. All of them.

Then I received a CD and call book for English Country Dancing which I used to make everyone dance. They endure my hobbies and I endure theirs. Rowan can dance with the best of them and I'm completely nonchalant about the mole skins laying on my sofa table.

This is family. The little strings that tie us tight together. Moles, dancing, and the Hardy Boys.