Plan A: Keep the Lines of Communication Open
“Just talk to your kids,” say the experts. “Be there for them. Listen to what they have to say.”
All righty then.
Bonnie: So, Tiger, your dad heard you say something about a dance.
Tiger: Eh.
Bonnie: Your dad’s not sure if you’re actually going to a dance, or if you were just mentioning a dance, you know, in conversation.
Tiger: Eh.
Bonnie: You know, if you are going to a dance, you’ll need transportation and a suit, or maybe even a tuxedo, and a corsage for your date….if you are going to a dance, I mean. If you are, just let us know.
(a moment of silence)
So, Tiger, are you going to a dance?
Tiger: Arrrgh! I feel like I’m being interrogated!
Note to the Experts: Keeping the lines of communication open with my firstborn is like keeping the lines of communication open with a rock. You can ask a rock whatever you want, but it’s probably not going to tell you anything. And if it were to open its mouth and share, the shock just might give you a heart attack.
Time for Plan B.
Plan B: Turn to Outside Sources
Hubby: Did the neighbors know anything?
Bonnie: They sure did! Didi says it’s a formal, so Tiger’ll need a tux and a corsage for his date. And get this—he and his friends are splitting the cost of a limo!
Hubby: A limo! (clutches his wallet protectively) But who’s he going with?
Bonnie: Didi didn’t get the gal’s name, but Tiger told her she’s nice. How about that? Tiger’s first dance! Who did you take to your first dance?
Hubby: (opens his laptop) I don’t remember.
Hubby has a very selective memory. He could never remember anything about his ex-girlfriends, even though we kept running into them when we first started dating. Let’s just say the rock didn’t fall far from the non communicative boulder.
(Bonnie’s evil eye finally bores through Hubby’s laptop screen)
Hubby: I think Tiger’s just being shy. That’s why he’s not telling us anything.
Bonnie: Well, he better get over it soon! We’ll need at least a week’s lead time to rent a tux. By the way, don’t you think it’s odd that all our neighbors know more about this date than we do?
Hubby: (shrugs)
Great. Well, Hubby’s ex-girlfriends were one topic I could overlook, but I haven’t been laundering Tiger’s underwear all these years just so I’d have to pry all the details about his first dance from the neighbors.
Time for Plan C.
Plan C: Internet Research
Bonnie: Who needs the neighbors when we’ve got MySpace.com! What do you want to know? It’s all here in the comments section!
Hubby: (perks up) Hello! Who’s the girl?
Bonnie: Her name is Sweetie Pie. She’s into sports and 4H Club…
Hubby: Excellent, excellent…
Bonnie: …and here’s her picture. Isn’t she cute?
As I filled Hubby in on all the pertinent details, I wondered what the experts would think of my methods. Maybe they’d think I was too nosy. Maybe they’d think Tiger’s first dance was none of my business.
Then again, I don’t see any experts helping me do my kids’ stinky laundry, so who cares what they think, anyway?
LOL
I had to get the date information for Boy’s first dance from my mom. Boy-rock would not part with the information.
Thanks for another word I can apply to my first-born child beyond frozen sloth. 😀
I hate to tell you this… I really shouldn’t… but I feel you have the right to know…
My Senior prom date – well – we now have four kids and have been married almost 14 years….
If it makes you feel any better – I asked him to the prom… 🙂
Now I know why women seem to be into crime dramas. You’re learning skills you’ll need to survive in a world inhabited by men. Like my dad always told me, “Son, whatever you do, don’t confess to anything… even if you did it.”
Well at least he’s not to the place yet where the grunt is followed by scratching one’s self…LOL
Ah yes, the shock of the rock. I know it well. I think I detect a little “like father like son,” which is coincidental as I am working on an article regaring this same subject.
Enjoy the experience…and take a lot of photos. (Yes, based on my most recent post I am being just a bit ironic, but I am also serious. I treasure my boys’ dance photos, even though the girl is always different.)
as a person who lives with a rock chipped off a boulder, i use myspace as a information tool to communicate…otherwise all conversation would only be about football and espn…
Kait, Teri & Laurie, I don’t feel so bad now that I know I’m not the only mom who’s experienced “the rock.”
Dennie, you’re scaring me! And Bonnie, you’re making me laugh!
Robert, we don’t have TV, so I can’t hone my investigative skills on anything except my kids. I hope I’m not warping them!
NO TV!?!?!?! – OH MY!!!! :-O
The rock…too funny!!! I actually just spent a week with my rock looking at colleges in the Los Angeles area. After five days in L.A. traffic together, he actually started to talk to me. I nearly drove off the road.
My son and I have a tacit understanding: as long as he doesn’t read my blog, I won’t read his. Of course we both cheat, and we both know it, but neither of us will ever, ever, EVER admit it.
Hi, Elizabeth! Isn’t that teen silence awful? I would’ve driven into a wall, I think, by the third day.
i must confess to sitting quietly in the living room and sending emails to my wife who is on the couch. in the livingroom.
and i can imagine the following heated exchange “what are you talking about? I said i was picking the kids up from school. didn’t you read my blog?”
Bonnie what a lovely morning read. brilliant. and even though (yesterday) i posted a comment in the wrong box, i’m still thinking about Monday Morning Mojo. Best to you
Portnoy