Tuesday, May 17, 2011

My Son, the Tornado

I have the extreme pleasure of working in one of the strangest, quirkiest, and most caring offices in the world.  It is like no other office I have ever seen.  People wander through, just to say 'hi'.*  We walk the faire site, me pushing a sleepy toddler in a stroller, Maestro dictating things to remember, and a performer taking notes.  We work in the midst of the crazy, and for the most part, I love it.

Part of that crazy is in the fact that we usually have at least one performer at the office, helping with various things.  One particular performer, a young man of about 19 or 20, has spent a lot of time with us in the past couple of weeks, and the one thing I've noticed is this:

Miles terrifies him.

Not that I blame him.  Miles is a force of nature.  As his mother, I know this, and I understand how overwhelming that can be.  Still, I was surprised when I saw this performer over the weekend, and he said, "Where's the tornado?"

He meant my son, who was at home with Patrick.  I have to say, it's a fitting nickname . . .

*Which occasionally turns into an hour-long 'meeting' with the person. :)

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