It all started when Son wandered in and casually announced that he was going to go take a shower. Voluntarily. With soap and water and everything. Naturally, my response was to immediately go look for the phone book. As I was looking up the number of a good mental health professional, and wondering if my allergy meds were responsible for this obvious hallucination, it hit me; Son has been spending a LOT of time lately on his bike cruising the neighborhood. He has suddenly stopped feigning illness every school day, stopped claiming that the school bus is nothing more than Hell's taxi cab, and last week I caught him looking in a mirror. On purpose.
This could mean only one thing. I just wondered if he'd volunteer the information or if I'd have to probe for the girl's name. Fortunately, Son was feeling talkative.
"Mom, you have no idea how hard it is to notice someone without them noticing you're noticing."
"Is there someone in particular you're trying to notice, unnoticed?"
Heavy sigh. "Yeah. I was trying to take her picture with my cell phone but I think she saw me."
The horror. Son went on to lament with disgust the difficulties of taking good pictures while pretending to nonchalantly make a phone call. Then he said, "You have no idea, Mom. You had it so much easier when you were a kid."
"Yeah, you could take pictures all you wanted and no one would ever know." I pondered that a moment, wondering how on earth he thought pulling out a camera, waiting for the flash to be ready, and snapping the picture was in any way inconspicuous. I gave up.
"What makes you think no one could tell we were taking pictures?"
"Oh, they could tell you were taking pictures, but with that hood over your head no one would be able to tell it was you."
That's what he thinks. Protecting my identity was next to impossible once I set my hair on fire with the flash.