I never did mention that the boys' basketball team won on Tuesday night. Consider it mentioned.

Today Number Four poked me in the back of the shoulder as he walked behind me during chorus. "Hey," I acknowledged. "How's it going?"

He started giggling, in the kind of heh-heh-heh way that he does. "I don't know what you're talking about," he responded, "but I'm good."

That boy is just goofy.

Last Friday, he was dinosaur-stepping around the band room when he was supposed to be playing the second trumpet part of "Summertime." He's 6'4", so it was an amusing sight, needless to say. I was sitting in my isolated corner behind my timpanis (which I only refer to as 'mine' because no one else knows how to play them). Anyway, I'm holed up in the little nest of drums and busily knitting.

Number four dinosaur-steps over and leans over the 29-inch. "Hi, Allison the Knitter," he announces. Before I can react, he loudly whispers, "Don't be naughty." He says this with such seriousness and a tone of mock disapproval that I can't help but laugh.

"You're on to me," I reply. "Everybody thinks I'm just mildly knitting my life away, but I'm actually plotting my revenge." He heh-heh-hehs and dinosaur-steps back to his seat.

What an odd fellow.