children change into aliens as adults

Just when I think I know my sons, they change. At 10, I signed up my second son for children’s choir. He responded as if I had told him to lay down on the rack in the torture chamber. He ran. He hid. He dragged his feet all the way to practice and forgot to tell me about upcoming performances. I gave up and excused him from musical performances.
After he graduated from high school, my reluctant performer went to Russia for a summer with Teen Missions. He returned saying the Russian folks had begged him to sing the echoing bass solo on a simple chorus. He sang it to for me a couple of times. His voice reached loud and clear into the cellar of musical notes. Last fall, he agreed to lead a worship team at the small church he attends. He came home at Christmas with poems he wanted to set music so they could sing them.
And all I wanted 15 years ago was for him to sing with a group of children.
But that’s the way it is with my sons. They grow up and are taken over by alien mature behavior. Or is it just an alien body invasion?
Must be aliens. My sons shunned sports. They hated gym. Basketballs, baseballs, gloves, bats, balls and tennis rackets gathered dust in the corner. They grumbled the whole time the couple of years I insisted they participate in the local swim team.
But, the minute the moved out, they began talking about the wonders of walking and riding bikes. Last year my most sports resistant child, shrugged off the idea of walking to the corner and catching the bus to classes last year. He rode his bike. Nothing stopped him: Neither rain nor snow, sleet or ice could keep him from his bike – until it broke down. Recently I asked if he had fixed his bike.
“No. I am enjoying the walk through the park to my classes.”
He’s beginning to sound like his brother who bikes everywhere, then tells me I am lazy because I have no interest in biking to work.
He should talk. After he landed a part-time job on the 38th floor of a high rise building in downtown New Orleans, he rode the bus, sipping coffee and reading the Wall Street Journal. Then one day all the articles in the Journal bored him. He looked out the window and noticed that all the bike riders were passing the bus.
He bought a bike and joined them on the busy streets of New Orleans.
A recent job change has lengthened his daily pedaling to an hour each way. He says he gets an endorphin rush from the exercise. I think he’s addicted to that rush and it’s affecting his thinking. He and his wife are house shopping. For weeks, he has given a hundred reasons for not buying a house a couple miles from his office. His primary objections? “If I live that close, I won’t get any exercise biking to work.”
Circumstances have to force him to exercise? This is the guy whose Labor Day weekend plans include making a round trip bike hike to Baton Rouge. That is not the kid who grew up in my house. Either an alien has taken over his body or he has grown up to enjoy more things in life.