My kid’s school started up today instead of tomorrow. He was up till 1 yesterday because he stayed up late on New Year’s partying it up with me, and I stayed up till 3 writing. Result: we looked frightening today, like Scowl-Face-People, batteries not included people, breakfast can’t be as important as that, please go back to sleep, people.
I dressed hurriedly but remembered to put on some cute faux-gold $3.99 earrings I just pimped at Rainbow, one of the most ghetto-fabulous stores of this century. I always try to have my hair and earrings on right when I leave the house in the morning, because it’s always the one day I wear a mildewed bandanna and a cartoon-character Tshirt that I bump into someone fly I’d like to spend the next 3 weeks with.
I trudged down the stairs to the kitchen, where my kid was already waiting. His mohawk is now a nohawk, and dangerously resembles a mullet. He was wearing a biker T-shirt and green camo-pants his dad bought him, and a crappy blue plaid shirt over it all. He looked like a Seattle grunge kid about to go hunting. I practically vurped.
I wanted to say several things. Like:
You look like a geek.
I will be embarassed if you exit the house dressed in this “fashion.”
God, oh, God. You look all wrong.
But instead, I said, gently, “What are you wearing?”
He paused a long moment, looked at my earrings, and said, “What are you wearing? You look like your mom, after she goes to a jewelry store and stays there all day.”
Like… my… mom? Fuck! He was going hunting, all right.
I poured out my coffee and we left. I kept the earrings on… at least until after I dropped him off. Sometimes, as a parent, you have to stand your ground.
