Gaunt and skinny, Mr. Potato Head and parenting expectations

The next best place to an airport to people watch is the food court.  The boys and I were having ice cream and the eldest snickered at someone walking by.  “It’s not nice to laugh at people”, I said.  I looked up to see what had attracted his attention and did a double take.  He was a teen that looked as close to someone in person as one of the Twins from The Matrix as you could imagine.  Granted, he was shorter and wasn’t wearing a trench coat; but he was the suburbia twin looking for Neo, or perhaps ice cream.

 

He was wearing a Nirvana t-shirt while texting someone.  My indie cred went off the needle because Kurt Cobain wouldn’t text.  He’d shun the system and tell people where he’d be and if they weren’t there tough flannel luck.

His look was so distinctive that our oldest kept looking at him.  I told him that some people are different, like to dress their own way or be their own person.

The twin’s black tee was a stark contrast to his white dyed hair.  It was dyed white, with blond streaks and one purple streak down the back.  His complexion made a blank sheet of office paper look colored and he was having ice cream in the food court with his mom.

I looked across the table at our youngest, wearing his favorite t-shirt, the classic long sleeve Mr. Potato Head.  I wondered if the twin’s mother ever, in her wildest dream thought that she’d be seeing what she sees across from her when her child was the same age as ours.

Mr. Potato Head will morph into Nirvana for our kids.  Well, hopefully, it’ll morph into Rush, AC/DC or Metallica, but we’ll be OK with Nirvana.

The mother and this late teen were chatting away when our oldest finished his ice cream.  As he’s becoming a big boy he wanted to get an empty cup and go get some ice.  Since we had the discussion that it was not cool to run off into the store, I told him to go get some.

He’s just not tall enough to push the cup against the ice button to make the ice fall.  The mom saw that he was having trouble and motioned to me if it was OK to help him.  I motioned yes and she helped push his little hand against the lever.  Her son watched the entire thing and I watched them.

Our guy ran back with his cup of ice.  She returned to the table and they resumed their conversation.  However, our smallest then decided that he wanted a cup of ice too.  “Monkey see, monkey do”, I told the two of them as I helped him get his ice so that he could join his brother.

She smiled at me as if to say “parenting is a cool thing, isn’t it”? Yeah it is.  I have no idea about your situation, what you do or what period of rebellion your son is going through.  In a couple of years he could be a banker, roadie, artists or business person, but I’m safely guessing from your demeanor that you’ll love him just as much as you did when he was three years old and wearing a Mr. Potato Head shirt.