This means without judgments, preconceived notions, whatever the crime, protect your kid. Chances are, it's a minor infraction: she stayed out too late with the hottie high-school wrestler dude, or Junior couldn't resist the captivating band girl and it's probably going to be okay. There's something much better about them now than us at their age, or certainly than me at their age. I had no identity and followed whatever path of trouble that called my name (or, sadly, didn't call my name but rather a name I thought meant for me...). Still, I managed to make a life, grow up, try stuff out, then have my own kid. But those early "getting in trouble" years still haunt me. I now know that it wasn't cool for my friend's dad to hang out with me in their dark apartment (which I thought was cool since I'd only ever known people with houses) and play Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon while passing me a joint. It took many years for me to admit - hey, that was off. His kids were long gone and I was still sieving seeds from the crease of Boston's More Than a Feeling.
Somehow, though, I escaped that life, which is another story for another time. But I'm heading with my son into the years of adolescence, puberty, hormones, nuttiness, mistrust - and I hope to WHATEVER that the foundation my son and I have built over the years will power us through and he won't have to go seeking some loser old dude rolling joints and waxing poetic about Phoenix or Jay Z or whoever it might be to catch the seeds, as it were.
At least, I hope he can ask me about that stuff.
No comments:
Post a Comment