About Converse, Scrunchies, and a Boy


We may be a little obsessed with Converse these days. And by “we” I mean my girls. I do confess, I own a pair, but it was totally due to peer pressure, or should I say Kid pressure–they felt like I needed to be cool.

Amaleah came home the other day with a cute little scrunchy in her hair and she told me we needed to get some more of “these things,” because everyone’s wearing them, and because we need more collections of things around here. It was then that I realized yet another thing I’ve gotten rid of that could have come in handy right now–all of my scrunchies. She didn’t even know what they were called, for crying out loud! But I think I had 100 of them at some point in my teenage years.

Truth be told, it was a scrunchy that actually brought Luke and me together.

(Do our kids grow tired of the stories we have for everything? My mom has a song for just about every phrase you can possibly say, and I think I have a story for everything, and often it’s the same story).

But I don’t think Amaleah had ever heard the scrunchy story.

Here’s the short of it:

I liked a boy (who happened to be named Luke).

We showed up at the same Aggie football party (which is hysterical in and of itself due to my absolute disdain for anything football–it turns my brain to mush).

I wanted to get his attention, and my best friend thought she’d help.

So like any normal 14 year old girls would do, we shot a scrunchy across the room and hit him in the head. Because that is the absolute most logical way to get a boy’s attention to make him think you are really cool.

Oh, and he was 17. It still amazes me to this day that we are married now.

And that we have a 12 year old who wakes up at 6 am every day to run cross country….


and a little boy who wants nothing more than to figure out how to be bodiless and scare people….


and a pretty little Julia, who turns out to be really sweet with dogs and extremely eager to help.



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