11/14/03

My son is 15. He is always tired. A little grumpy. Reserved. Tall, dark, handsome and pimply. Prone to discussing things that are of no relevance to anyone. Did I say tall?

 

So this large, male child of mine asks me, “Where are the Indian corn on the door? We usually get out a bunch of turkeys and stuff. It doesn’t look like Thanksgiving in here.” I sat in a dazed stupor. Hopeful, but sure that what I think I heard was not what he actually said.

 

This is the same boy whose vocabulary is generally made up of grunts and ‘Yeah’ in any conversation? I had decided to skip that three week stint of Thanksgiving décor. I took down all the Halloween scary stuff and left up the ‘fall only’ decorations. I decided to go easy on myself and leave off the pilgrims and turkeys. He noticed. Not only did he notice but he said something out loud about it to me. I am shocked. Perhaps all these years of efforts have gone so deeply into his subconscious, that even though no one says anything, I’ve actually influenced him. Even though duffle bags are tossed onto said stuffed turkey on piano bench, he has been affected after all. It is a moment of mothering triumph. Stuff I do is actually noticed!

 

I’ll bask in this glory for a few more moments, until one of my kids points out that doing the dishes should actually be my job since I’m ‘the mom’. A few more moments until one of them says they might get married instead of going to college. Or they try to convince me that Mario Brothers is educational and replaces their need to complete their homework.

 

I got over my momentary shock and simply replied, “I’ll get that stuff out when we get home. Good point.” And happily, I did.