Both boys in my family sported the cat just ate the mouse expression last night. Simultaneously. We were so obvious that Miriam could be heard stifling a guffaw as she stumbled down the hallway after she turned away from the doorway.
I have been waiting for that moment for a few years. Not the sound of my extremely Baptist wife stumbling down the hallway because, well, “beer” is at the top of her list* of sure fire hellbound sins (along with “sex”, a word she still whispers and not in the way I like it). I would like to see that just once. The moment I am speaking of is the male rite of passage, when the boy becomes a man by refusing to turn in his father, realizing there are just some bits of information the womenfolk just don’t need to know.
Nate has crossed the line. There is NO turning back once the line has been crossed. The boy has tipped the cradle. I am chuckling with glee in a very manly sort of way.
This one was not my idea. I am very careful about suggesting to my son that he not tell his mother about ANYTHING. Up to last night, telling Nate to zip it with Mir was sure fire that he would tell her. But this was a collaboration that he suggested, a plot he has had in the works for about a week when, as we shopped together for his sister’s birthday present, he saw a video game that rung both of our bells, found a common interest – zombies. Nate plays the zombie version of Call of Duty online constantly with his friends. I am a Walking Dead fan, the only one in my family who is (see “extreme Baptist” above).
“Let’s get that game, Dad. You know you are going to want to play it as much as I do.”
And he was correct. I was trying to act like I had not seen the display for the game as we walked past the store earlier. It was why it had been easy to drag me back into the store.
“Naaaa, son, I need to watch what we spend this week. You don’t NEED that game. You just WANT that game.”
I know the dad rhetoric.
Nate knew the truth. He is getting shrewd in his old age too. Push too hard and he’ll be springing for the entire game.
“OK, Dad. I bet I have enough reward points to get this game any way. We can check when we get home.”
I like it when my son takes initiative. If only he were as motivated about his school work. Heck, if only he were this patient about..weeelllllll… anything. The kid is learning. He planned this one. I picked him up from a friend’s house. Nate casually mentioned that the $25 reward coupon he had printed was in his pocket and that we were only a few minutes away from the video game store.
“Mom won’t be home for a few hours and we can play the game together.”
And the guy at the store counter was our favorite guy. He threw in a bonus perk for the game, a code for the herd version of the game that could be downloaded. Score.
We had a blast smashing zombie brains together. If there ever is a zombie apocalypse, my recommendation is to hook up with Nate and I. You’ll be safe and sound.
As long as there isn’t a zombie Miriam. She is one sneaky Baptist. Nate and I were so busy upstairs in his room performing undead mayhem that we didn’t hear her creep up the stairs, down the hallway, and inch the bedroom door open.
“What are you boys up to? Hmmmm?”
Our heads snapped up in unison, sheepish “who me?” grins on our faces, replaced by innocent smirks.
“Nothing.” It was clear from Mir’s amused expression that her boys were united in covering up.
“OK. Should I leave you two alone?”
“Uh huh. Go away, Mom.” I snuck a quick “watch it” look at him.
If I could have a beer in the house, I would have offered one to my son. He earned it.
*Also included in the “list” — ‘R’ rated movies, women who show cleavage, homos, and Catholics.