Monday, July 1, 2013

Monkey Boy Scores

Yes, I know.  It has been ages.  I'm not dead.  I am, however, severely undermedicated, so this makes for a less-than-funny FFW.  I will try harder, sooner.  But there are no promises in life.  Deal.

Before I get seriously into this post, I would like to offer up a definition, for clarity.

FFW New Edition Dictionary
"Grind on"- (verb)-the process of a girl rubbing her breasts on your chest

You will see why I needed to define this, in a moment.

A couple months ago, Monkey Boy attended a Middle School Dance.  The flyer announced "formal dress encouraged".  Apparently, this means, "formal dress for everyone but the baddest mother fuckers around, y'all can hang in swim trunks".

So, I said, "If you want to get a new outfit for the dance, I need to know by Wednesday night, and then only if all your homework is done".

I guess the prospect of new gear was quite the incentive (I wish I could offer him new digs EVERY week, but alas, good grades and not screaming for homework to be completed are not the rewards in my future, at the cost of $75 per week...).

So, we headed to the mall.  On the way, negotiations began.

MB: I want a new hoodie.
Me: You have plenty of hoodies.  I'm willing to buy new shorts or pants, and a new shirt.
MB: How about shorts, a T shirt, and new shoes?
Me: New shoes under $45?
MB: Possibly.....what if the shorts are on sale?

....and so on.

I have recently morphed into a at-least-they-are-clean-and-dressed type of parent.  Sky King disagrees, and really wanted to see me coming home with a shirt with a collar, and chinos for Monkey Boy.  But, he wasn't the one stuck at the mall with a teenager.  I was.  So it was my rules.  Which are more lax than his.  Whatevs.

We came home with:
A new "DC" T-shirt (black and aqua)
A new pair of Board Shorts (gray, black and aqua)
A new pair of Nikes (He had grown a full size since the last shoe-buying expedition, so I eased up on the budget)

Now, he originally wanted a particular pair of shoes.  But they didn't have his size (because the whole world it out to get him).  Luckily, there was an upstanding young sales associate (who would be virtually unemployable if not for the advent of Zumiez, Tilly's and Spencer's Gifts) with stretched earlobes and a comb-over that rivals anything Kurt Cobain could have come up with, waiting to assist us in our time of need.  He precariously climbed a 40 foot ladder (is it legal to work while high on the latest synthetic marijuana substitute?) and procured a fabulous pair of shoes that had an amazing heat-sensitive "Swoosh".  Basically, "mood Nikes".  All wrapped up by a guy who deliberately chose to wear cut-off jorts.


Later, we got this text once the dance had ended and he was safely tucked in at a friend's house:

Us: Have fun?
MB: yep.  This girl grinded on me then left and after a while she came back and did it again and did it again im happy


Now, in my mind, my precious little (at 5 foot 7 and growing at an alarming rate) baby got dry-humped, at a Montessori-school dance, in full view of several staff members.  And, being the hip badass mom I am, I cringed.  And, because I fully embrace inconsistencies and double-standards when it suits me, I thanked my lucky stars I wasn't the mother of the girl.

All kinds of things flooded my mind.  And I was left with a bitter taste in my mouth, and the idea that my son got to third base at an 8th Grade dance. Truly, I KNEW things were headed downhill, rapidly.  My boy was growing up.

The next day, he came home from spending the night at a friend's house.  "How was the dance?" I inquired.  He repeated his story, complete with ear-to-ear grins.

I asked further-"so, she rubbed her privates on yours? At a dance?"

He looked confused.  "No, her boobies! What did you think I meant?"

I said, "Well, I thought 'grinded on' was, you know, south of the border."

He looked at me, with a snarled lip (almost in disgust, or maybe to imply that boobies are WAY better than vaginas).

Umm, yeah.

A boobie rub.  Still, I'm glad I'm not HER mother.

This is what I am left with:

New DC shirt: $15
New Board shorts: $32
New Nikes (with Mood swoosh): $68

Getting "grinded on" at a school dance: Priceless

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