Momservation: If silence is golden, then I have the golden child.
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It’s my son’s birthday this week. He’ll be fifteen. And I will be no closer to knowing what goes on his day-to-day life when he’s out and about. Which is always.
Yes, I am mother to the prototypical homonosaysomuch male.
When not trying to be anywhere but home, you can recognize these creatures in their native habitat: a room permeated with the smell of dirty socks, rank cleats, and Axe body spray that is a land mine of discarded stinky clothes, empty food wrappers, Gatorade bottles, books, balls, backpacks, shoes, used iTunes and Starbucks gift cards, and clean clothes still not put away.
You can identify them by their distinctive markings: TV remote or gaming controller in one hand, smart phone in the other, headphones firmly implanted over ears, Elite socks or Nike Free Runs on their feet, year-round shorts, Pizza My Heart t-shirt, or, more than likely, just in underwear.
These young teenage males do not say much. But if you listen closely you will hear them grunt when asked if they’re hungry, have homework, have any plans, or how their day was. In rare instances you may be fortunate enough to hear a more expressive: “Yes,” “No,” or “Fine.”
I will now illustrate for you a prime example of the non-communicative fifteen year-old homonosaysomuch male:
Last Friday there was a silent protest by students at my son’s high school. A girl had written a controversial paper that was turned over to the vice-principal. The girl then decided to break into the vice-principal’s office to retrieve the paper. Upon being confronted she then assaulted the vice-principal who is now pressing charges for injuries including being bitten. She was suspended and recommended for expulsion. Some kids thought this was unfair, leading an on-campus protest instead of going to class. TV news crews showed up to cover it.
I heard about it from an inside source and other parents. I think we would all agree that this is big news. Probably worthy of mentioning when someone asks how school was, correct?
In my ongoing research to try and understand the young homonosaysomuch male, I decided to test my subject. When I picked him up Friday I asked, “How was school?”
“Fine.” Same answer every day.
“Anything interesting happen at school today?” This is the question I use to try to draw the subject out.
“No.” Interesting response noted.
“So two TV crews showing up to your school to film a silent protest over a girl assaulting your vice principal after breaking and entering into his office to steal an offensive essay ISN’T worth mentioning about how your day was???” I screeched exasperated with his withholding of vital information.
“Oh yeah. I was going to tell you about that.”
Yesterday—new development. I find out the school will have a police presence on campus all week because said girl-to-be-expelled is alleged to have written a threat on a girls’ bathroom stall threatening to shoot up the school tomorrow. Parents are panicking, principal is in crisis public relations mode, students have lit up Twitter.
I think it would be fair to say this is a HUGE development at school.
When my son gets dropped home from school I ask: “How was school today?”
Prototypical homonosaymuch male: “Fine.”
Mother: “Are you f-ing kidding me??? You don’t think someone threatening to come onto campus with a gun Wednesday is worth mentioning???”
He shrugs. “I found out about it on Twitter. No one believes anything on Twitter.” Kicks off his stinky shoes, chugs the last of the Gatorade he grabbed out of the garage fridge, chucks the bottle on the floor next to the backpack he dumped, and sticks his face back into his smart phone on the way to the pantry.
Happy 15th birthday son. Love our talks.