Bond fired

My boy tumbled off the school bus and into the house. He closed the door with a vibrating bang, did a little dance and let loose an echoing exclamation:

"Done!"

That wasn't the only word he used.

His declaration was more of a phrase uttered with attitude, a peppering of profanity, and, I'm assuming, some degree of cultural appropriation.

But I would be merely guessing.

Truth be told, the bridge between our generational divide - especially when it comes to nomenclature - seems a little more rickety these days.

It was the last day of school. And the first day of Summer. As a result, his binders, overfilled with papers, spilled out onto the floor.

A wide-ruled river of toil and turbulence overrunning its banks.

He had already swum ashore and into a kitchen with not enough snacks.

He harrumphed with disappointment before making his way to his room with a fistful of boring old crackers.

I stood in his way, elbows on hips. The universal expression of obstruction and determination. A dam.

"You need to take care of this mess."

Apparently, he'd planned a course of action ...

"Can we have a bondfire?"

I hesitated to correct him. But only for a moment. I couldn't help myself.

"It's bonfire ... without the D. ... BON-Fire."

He cocked his head at the angle that says: "I'm not sure I agree with your assessment there, deputy," but stops short of insubordination.

To which I recited from The online Dictionary of Etymology: "Bon•fire: 1550s, from Middle English banefire (late 15c.), "a fire in which bones are burned." See bone (n.) + fire (n.). Original sense obsolete and forgotten by 18c.; as 'large open-air fire for public amusement or celebration,' from late 15c. From 17c. as 'large fire from any material'."

He rolls his eyes -- the universally understood symbol of "School-is-over. I-am-not-legally-required-to-learn -any-new-stuff-until-after-Labor-Day."

"Burning bones, duuuude. How Goth is that?"

I deserved the blank stare that followed.

"You are lucky social studies is my favorite subject," he says with a sigh.

"So CAN we burn all of my last year's homework in a BONfire?"

Might have to wait for a snap of cold weather and use the wood stove; we're not zoned for open burning.

Still ... All that carbon. All that waste.

The kid in me can understand the appeal of taking your troubles and setting them aflame. But the adult in me can't help but temper the urge. The adult in me also knows that keeping this stuff will run the risk of creating a fire hazard all its own.

The adult in me wants him to find an equal joy in recycling it into smithereens.

"Hey … Let's SHRED!

Doesn't that sound fun? A shredder is something we might readily use as we try to curtail identity theft and fraud …

“We'll need to go to the office supply place ... Hey! we can check out back-to-school stuff while we're there."

Funny how I managed to say all of that as he just stood and watched me, head cocked at the angle of disbelief, with a wide, wry smile.

"Yeah … I think I'm done here."