Because He Can
My son turns eighteen tomorrow.
Over the past few weeks he has been prepping me for surgery. Apparently he will be performing this procedure, which will involve the severing of someone’s apron strings.
I’m not aware of anyone whose apron strings need severing. Nipped and tucked, perhaps, but not severing.
But I digress.
Several weeks ago, the still-seventeen year old informed me of two events in which he will be participating following the eighteenth anniversary of his birth. My presence is neither required nor requested.
The first event, I was told, would be the purchase and smoking of a cigar. From Rudy’s Cigar Shop. A real cigar. A man’s cigar. As opposed to a woman’s cigar?
I can handle that. I’m not thrilled with my son intentionally ingesting toxins and ash, but I can deal with it.
The second event, my son announced, would involve his also-turning-eighteen-this-week friend. Something about a road trip. And a strip club.
And my son. My son. Fruit of my womb. DNA of my DNA.
After my eyes resumed position in their sockets and the mysterious screeching faded, I advised my son that such a road trip would proceed only after certain other events occurred.
Events involving my dead body, below zero temperatures, hell, pigs and flight.
Now I like to think I’d make a pretty damn effective dead body, but there are some things that sons are going to do just because they can.
Strip clubs are like peeing al fresco.
I’ve done the guilt. Not going there. Not for this. I’m saving it for greater where-was-his-mother-when-he-was-doing-that issues.
He peed al fresco.
And he’ll find his way, eventually, to that damn strip club.
Because he can.
Trackbacks & Pingbacks
- Sandy Slaga | The Law of English Muffins pingbacked on March 6, 2007, 2:51 pm
- Sandy Slaga | Anatomy of a Teenage Bathroom pingbacked on March 30, 2007, 11:15 am
There is dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle-ground between light and shadow, between parent and child, and it lies between the pit of a mom’s fears and the summit of her knowledge. This is the dimension of teenagers coming of age, if not of wisdom.
Like you said… there may be a few odd detours, but eventually he’ll find his way.
Thank you, dear Anne. I just wish I could get a preview of his life ten years from now to know that all is well…..
Mom - at least he isn’t going to open a bag of Redman for a chaw! Hope all is well. Tom
Perhaps after he leaves the “gentleman’s club” to which his friends and he are venturing, he will feel the need to commune with the Redman in a vain attempt to cleanse his soul.
Oh, it’s a rite of passage for 18-year-old men. Hell, I did it.
He’ll get there and realize just how creepy most of those places are. He’s going to feel awkward and dirty. And, unless he enjoys awkward and dirty, that will probably quench his appetite.
Really, its all about doing something that’s taboo. Something he’s been told he shouldn’t and, now that he’s an adult, he can do it.
Thanks, Ry!