Just had my sons Open House to a new school, and I have to say, it was nice. We met the teacher…checked out his desk…found his locker…scanned the room for weirdos. Yeah, I said it. Let’s be real here. Open House is just a not-so-sneaky way of checking out the other kids and their parents to help you decide who he/she will not be hanging out with this year. That’s mean, isn’t it? Well, the truth of the matter is, my son is sweet…trusting. He just wants to go hang-out with his buddy who has the cool toys. I just want to be able to drop him off at his buddy’s house without worrying he’ll come home with a Meth addiction!
“What, Sweetie? A boy named Jed is your best-friend? Wasn’t he the one at Open House who showed up in one shoe, smoking a cigar and his mother came wearing fishnet stockings and saying his father couldn’t be there cause he was in jail for human trafficking? That Jed? Su-per!”
I honestly don’t know when I became so judgey. It must have attached itself to my uterus the moment I got pregnant. It’s not like I’m a total snob or anything. I’m not completely opposed to my kids being friends with kids whose mothers are prostitutes. There’s worse things out there.
“Allegra is your new girlfriend? Isn’t she the screaming brat from Open House who showed up in head to toe Abercrombie and demanded her parents take her to the stables RIGHT NOW? Yeah, honey, you can’t fall in love with a girl who hangs out at ‘the stables’. We’re not “stable” people. Hell, we’re not even stable people, if you know what I mean!” (Which he doesn’t because he’s 6.)
It’s a pretty conflicting time for me now that he’s heading back to school. Part of me wants him to go meet new and interesting people and listen to different ideas and to get a new perspective on life. And the other part of me doesn’t want those little bastards to ruin what’s taken me 6 years to create! He’s perfect, in my eyes. He’s so funny and smart and creative. What if some little asshole with asshole parents makes him feel bad about being those things? What if they change him?
I suppose the likelihood of that happening is slim. I mean, I was friends with all sorts of freaks when I was little, and look how great I turned out? (Go ahead and laugh, Mandi!) I had a friend who liked to lick things. Another who was constantly asking if she could put her finger in my belly button. And a boyfriend who made a joke about bald pussies, that I didn’t get until I was 29! (yeah, all that in elementary school. See why I’m scared!)
So, though I have no solutions for any of this yet, I guess I’ll keep my critical third eye open and hope for the best. First day of first grade starts tomorrow. Yay?
I can’t believe I have 11 more years of this shit. Bring on the gray hairs!
Thanks for reading!