When I got back from my early morning workout, I came in to find SCL sitting at his desk (not unusual) with a big, boring book in hand along with a pencil (definitely unusual.) "Is that your stats book?" I asked. (Note: since he didn't take stats in college, he has to go to a week-long crash course in August which we've adoringly nicknamed "Math Camp." I can just picture a sea of pale, glasses-wearing, pocket protector-bearing kids ready to go with their TI-89s...though they probably don't even use those anymore. Shows how long it's been since I've been sitting in a math class.)
Let me say that stats camp doesn't begin until the last week of August. I asked him, "Do you have to do any reading before you go?" He said no, but that there's no way they could get through the entire book in a week--to which I responded, maybe that isn't the point. "But this will make it so much easier when I get there!" he responded, slightly defensively. I don't blame him. I was making fun of his nerdiness and warned him that he could quickly become "that kid."
When I went into the kitchen to get my coffee and oatmeal, I was expecting SCL to stay at his desk, reading his book, and I'd decided that I wouldn't say anything about it, figuring I'd probably be nervous about starting a doctoral proram and would like to feel prepared in some way, even if it seemed a little silly from the outside. But as soon as I put my coffee cup down, SCL turned off his desk lamp and joined me at our little kitchen table.
That's why I love him.
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