Yesterday we went for supper at my mom’s house.
While we were there, Wyatt, the 14 year old, announces that he may go to his “semi-formal” on Friday.
Wyatt never goes anywhere. Never does anything with his friends.
He spends most of his time on the computer googling “How to become Steven Spielberg” or watching “My Name is Earl.”
So far it’s all pretty harmless, but his adoration for Homer Simpson frightens me a little.
I have this vision of him in the next 10 years, sporting a dirty Grizzly Adams beard, sitting on a tree stump in my back yard, hanging around a bonfire, drinking copious amounts of Molson Ex it’s Canadian beer.
No, not homeless, but with aspirations of becoming a hobo in order to experience the true socialist discomforts needed to become a passionate film maker (this is according to him. Personally, I’m prepared to send him to film school.)
Wyatt in 10 years
So, needless to say, when the “semi-formal” topic came up, I was right on that.
However, Wyatt owns three tshirts and one pair of jeans.
I constantly offer to get him more clothes but he constantly refuses…probably figures it’ll be easier to live on the streets if he doesn’t have too many changes of clothes. What’s a little stink among fellow hobos.
Wyatt, however, is a big boy: he’s pushing 6 foot and easily weights 200 lbs.
So when he mentions the “semi-formal,” I immediately ask my step-dad if he has any dress pants and a shirt that Wyatt could borrow.
We’re successful with the dress pants.
But the white shirt that he borrows is a little tight.
Of course, having self-confident, well-balanced children would be boring, so as Wyatt is deciding whether or not the shirt is too tight, I pipe up, and say, “I can see your nipples through the shirt.”
Wyatt’s like, “What? Really?”
I say, “No. I’m just kidding.”
But he’s looking at me, and he’s like, “No, you aren’t kidding. You can totally see my nipples.”
I add, “It’s not a big deal Wyatt, it’s not like they’re hairy or anything.”
He’s looking down at his chest.
So I ask, “Are they hairy?”
Wayne, who isn’t one to pass up an opportunity to join into the fun, says, “No, of course they aren’t hairy. If you want though Wyatt, I can take the permanent marker and draw some hair on your chest.”
Wyatt’s like, “What? No! I’ll wear a tshirt under the dress shirt.”
My step-dad is now saying, “Wyatt, you can’t wear a tshirt, it’ll be too bulky.”
Meanwhile my mom is running around, pulling out all the dress shirts my step-dad owns, measuring the sleeves againts Wyatt’s arms, as he’s still looking down at his chest.
I reitirate, “I’m just kidding Wyatt, you cannot see your nipples through the shirt.”
My step-father says, “Wyatt, I don’t wear a tshirt under my shirt when I go out. You can’t see anything.”
Of course, this is way too much fun, and I can’t just let my step-dad talk Wyatt off the ledge, so I add, “But do you have hairy nipples? Maybe it’s ok to have hairy nipples show through your shirt just not naked nipples.”
My poor step-dad, caught up in the whirlwind that is my family, is laughing jovially, saying, “I don’t have hairy nipples…I don’t think…”
So now he’s peering into his shirt.
Wyatt is peering at his grandfather’s chest.
And my mom is still pulling shirts from the bedroom, saying to Wyatt, “Try this one on. It’s bigger in the sleeves.”
Then to be helpful, Wayne adds, “If you want, we can guntape your nipples, this way nobody will see them through the shirt.”
Even my mom joins in, “I have this band-aid things for nipples. Maybe he can borrow them….but they have flowers on them…”
Wyatt looks like he’s ready to flee. Suddenly 14 doesn’t seem too young to become a hobo.
Finally, my mother pulls out this shirt from a box. It was going to be my step-dad’s Christmas present, but nothing is more important than getting Wyatt to this “semi-formal” so he doesn’t turn into Grizzly Adams, so she says, “It was going to be for Grandpa, but it’ll be your present instead.”
I’m sure Wyatt is now thinking, “I’d rather have an Xbox game,” but he obediently goes into the bathroom to try the shirt on, comes back out, and we all say, “Wyatt, that’s the perfect shirt. You look great!”
But then he looks at me, and goes, “Mom! You just looked at my nipples! You can totally see my nipples through this shirt.”
And I say, “No you can’t!”
And he replies, “Yes! I can see you looking!”
And I’m like, “Oh who cares Wyatt, it’s not like your like nipples are hairy.”
To which my husband once again offers to draw hair on his nipples with a permanent marker.
And then Zoe pipes up, “Does Wyatt have hair on his penis yet?”
And I say, “Yes.”
And Wyatt groans.
And she says, “How do you know? Have you seen it?”
I reply, “No, I haven’t seen it on him, but he doesn’t run around naked anymore, so I think that means he’s hairy now.”
“Oh, it’s that puberty thing, right?” she says proudly. “Wyatt’s in puberty!” This is probably a status symbol when you’re an 11 year old girl.
And Wyatt is pulling the hat he insists on wearing all the time, very low over his eyes.
…and I think I’ve pretty much guaranteed him a spot on the tree stump in my backyard.
Not sure if he’ll be able to grow the Grizzly Adams beard though since the whole naked nipple thing makes me wonder if he’ll be in his twenties before he can grow facial hair.
But he does have genital hair, so that’s gotta count for something.