I was talking to Number One Son on the phone the other night. He's getting ready to come home from his first year of college, and we were firming up the plans to pick him up.
Suddenly he said, I can't believe that you wrote I thought I had scalp cancer on your blog!
Wow, he reads my blog!
Usually I try to talk about my sons only in a general sense. If I have concerns that hubby might feel--ahem--violated over something I write, I let him have a look-see first. And I don't use names.
I mentioned to Number One that there's actually a lot of things I've refrained from blogging about, because I was leery about embarrassing him.
I don't want your friends to think I'm strange. What if you fictionalize it and make me into someone else?
Uh ok. Below is a--er fictionalization. Names have been changed to protect the innocent.
Late last summer when hubby and I were getting ready to take A Kid Who Is Not Related to us (from now on known as AKWINR) to college, I was at the grocery store grabbing every last minute thing I thought he would need at his new home-away-from-home.
I went up and down the aisles. Cold remedies. Garbage bags. Cleaning supplies. Deodorant.
Then I stopped dead in my tracks.
In front of an entire wall of condoms.
The Little Kid Who IS Related To Us said, What's wrong, Mom?
"Nothing. I'm thinking."
What a dilemma! To me, AKWINR will always be the little guy running around in his Power Rangers underoos. The thought of him getting jiggy with coeds is one I hate to entertain. Of course, thinking of the alternatives is even worse.
I called my husband on my cell phone.
"I'm at the store. Do you think we should buy him condoms?"
That's a really really good idea!
"Can you do it on your way home from work?"
I don't think I'm going to have time. You're right there, why don't you do it?
"Because this is truly skeeving me out! I don't want to seem like I'm encouraging him! There is something really wrong with this scenario!"
As much as being a grandma in your 30's? I'll give them to him.
"Good point. What kind should I get? There's a 100 choices here."
Do they have any double baggers?
Never mind---guy joke. Just get the regular kind. Get the industrial sized box.
"Boy, these are expensive. Hey they've got generic!"
Don't even think about it! Consider it as an investment in his future! Gotta go!
The Little Guy decides to pipe up. Mom, what does lubricated mean?
By this time, I'm sure I was 10 different shades of red. I was still trying to find the "right" kind. Did you know they even have sizes?
"Honey, I'll tell you later. Go over there and read what's on those boxes!" I pointed down the aisle. Two minutes later I realized I had pointed him to the tampon section. Gak!
Later, when we unloaded the car, I stuck the box of condoms in hubby's golf bag. He slipped them to AKWINR on the sly later.
Wow thanks! Good thing Mom doesn't know about this! She'd sh*t gold bricks!
Guys. I gotta love them.
Even the ones who aren't related to me.