Thursday, March 27, 2008

Conspicuously Invisible

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."
"I did?"
"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.


Ronni said...

More evidence that they should be put in a box and shipped to Australia at the first word.

Stacey said...

Exactly, Ronni. Hubs and I often remind each other that it all went wrong when we decided to teach the boy to speak. Bad move, that.

mgt said...

So, did you get to see the picture of the girl, Stacey?

Oh boy, you better be ready for the dramas that follow young love. Apparently, I came home from school one day with the back of my hand over my forehead and ready to collapse.

My poor mother rushed to my aid, thinking I had one of my migraines (which usually needed help from all stations, brother, mother and father). All she got was...."Boo hoo, Emile has chosen Margo Blake!"

I threw myself at my bed with such so theatrically and landed on the other side of it, jammed between the bed and the wall. Now, that was heartbreak!

When my Dad heard the story, he had to hide in the kitchen so I wouldn't hear him laughing.

Talk about drama!?

Stacey said...

Oh yes. I saw the pictures. And she's very cute. And true, nothing quite equals the drama of young love. Good heavens, I thought young "I'm sick/injured" was bad! I remember telling my parents about the agony of my first crush. I also remember getting teased about it to the point that I'm not sure I ever told them I kind of like Hubs!

Stop and smell the Daisies said...

So, this is obviously an OLD post, but I enjoyed old does he think you are? For that matter, how old are you? Since I don't know you from Eve, I would have to ask.

stacey said...

Yes, it's an old post. I haven't updated in awhile! As for my age, well, you mention Eve. Son believes she and I were contemporaries. In truth, I'll be turning 30 in June. For the tenth year in a row.

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