Wednesday, January 30, 2008

Adulthood reached.

I've shared my Dylan as a boy stories. Believe me, there are more where those came from, but if I started remembering all those special times with my boy, I'd begin to think of special times with the other 4, and next thing you know, I'd be curled up in a fetal position in a quiet corner of the house, making little moaning noises, eyes tightly squinched shut. So let me share my latest grown-up Dylan story.
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Dylan drove home from Allentown for the holidays. He was home for less than 24 hours before we were sharing a special moment, the magical moment that set this Christmas apart from any Christmas before it and (please, God...) any Christmas after it.
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Cara and Dylan came into the livingroom, where I sat at the computer. They had been in high spirits all day. We all had been, actually. That's why I was so completely blindsided by what was to follow.
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Dylan casually leans against my chair and says, "Mom, I've been thinking of getting a tattoo."
Now, I'm a mom who firmly believes that when your kids grow up, and begin living independently, supporting themselves, they get to make their own choices. You just really pray that you've raised them with enough sense that those choices do not lead them too far off the straight and narrow. So my answer went something like this. "Dylan, you're a grown man now. I don't tell you what to do. These decisions are yours to make."
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Dylan says, "Really? Well, the tattoo I've been thinking of is a tattoo that no one could see when I had a shirt on. I don't want to be unemployable."
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This was a relief. I'd hate to think that his college education was going to be for naught. "What kind of a tattoo were you thinking of?" I asked, trying to be a mom with her nose plainly out of her children's business.
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Dylan waves his hand up and down in the general vicinity of the right side of his rib cage and says, "Well, I was thinking of getting a tattoo of torn flesh, and underneath the torn flesh, you'd see gears and computer chips, like I was a robot. It kind of goes along with the whole Electro-Mechanical Maintenance Field."
******
You know what? My nose went directly into to my boy's business. What he was talking about was huh-uuuuuuuuuuuge, in the words of a local car salesman. "What the heck would you want something like THAT for?!!!" I asked. "Jeepers, Dylan, that is grotesque! And it's big! Ew. Don't do something like that to yourself."
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Dylan and Cara were both rocking back and forth laughing uproariously. Dylan says, "Would you rather I got a fairy riding a unicorn, chasing a butterfly into a rainbow?"
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"No," I allowed, "but I don't understand why you would want a tattoo of torn flesh. That's just gross. You could never go without a shirt if you got a tattoo like that."
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At this point, Cara was laughing so hard she was holding her ribs. Dylan was laughing hard too. He was not holding his ribs. Hindsight being 20-20, there is one thing that I missed that was pretty obvious. His hand had waved up and down in the general vicinity of the right side of his rib cage, but he never actually touched the area. Like it was tender to the touch. Something like that. Yes. I missed that.
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Dylan said, "Mom, going shirtless went out with the mullet."
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"Then give me one good reason why you'd even think of such a thing!" I demanded.
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Still laughing, Dylan said, "I've wanted a tattoo ever since I was 17. It's just one of those things on my 'Things To Do Before I Die' list.
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I opened my mouth to tell him that I really hoped that his list was short, and that the tattoo was the last thing on it, because if he got a tattoo like that, his mother might kill him. Before I could speak, however, Dylan lifted his shirt. I reeled in shock, and, friends, what flew past my lips will not fly in polite company, so I won't even try to recount that.
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My boy, my fine looking boy, had his tattoo. It was big. It was grotesque. It was brand spanking new.
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I sat there staring. Dylan said, "I bought myself a little Christmas present."
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Weakly, I said "Geesh. I can't wait to see what I got."

2 comments:

PaintedPromise said...

OMG you will kill me but i think that is hilarious! Dylan has quite the imagination! no ordinary dragon for him...

this coming from someone who has 4 tattoos already and wants at least 3 more... of course mine are little!

debby said...

No. Not going to kill you. I'm pretty much over the shock at this point.