When I was a kid, in the 70s, I used to swipe my older brother’s Mad magazines. A lot of the humor was over my head, but that only added to the allure: This was a peep show into an unknown world, and I was lusting to grow up.
One Mad feature I did get, however, was the regular series by Sergio Aragones: “The Shadow Knows.” It was a simple cartoon of all sorts of folks in all kinds of daily situations, but their shadows behind them projected (literally) their true thoughts or motivations. Like this:
I grew up in a house where things that should have been said were usually unsaid, and so I spent a lot of time deciphering subtext. I thought Sergio was hilarious. But at the same time, in my secret world, I wished his shadows were real.
The other day my teenage boy was flipping through channels while I was parked on the couch next to him. He landed on a particularly funny part of Superbad—the scene where a fretful McLovin is attempting to use his new fake ID to buy booze while his friends Evan and Seth wait in the parking lot outside.
I had already seen Superbad, but without my son—also named Evan—beside me. The friendship between the Evan and Seth reminded me a bit of my Evan and a friend of his, so I asked him, after we laughed for a few minutes, if he had seen the whole movie, too.
Evan kept his eyes fixed straight ahead and answered in a measured tone, “Um… yeah.” He clearly didn’t want to have a discussion about Superbad.
Click. He switched channels. We sat face-forward and silent on the couch. He found an old episode of Mythbusters and so we watched that instead.
But for a split second, over my shoulder appeared a shadow on the wall behind me.
And there I was, a massive, nosy bloodhound – sniffing, snooping, peering into privacies and uncovering secrets: Do any of your friends have fake IDs? Have you guys ever tried to buy alcohol? What’s the equivalent of Vagtastic.com for you and your friends? Have you ever been at a party like that? Do guys really talk about girls in that way?
And there was Evan: trying his best to protect his turf.
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I must say I always thought I would be the parent who would talk to her kids about anything at anytime. However, I think when we make these plans we think the issue will arrive when the timing is perfect and all the stars are in line. Then when it hits you from left field the opportunity for superparenting is gone before you have a chance to engage your well-prepared openness and liberal guidance skills. Like JUST THIS MORNING at my house (really) when my 8yo son said to me over breakfast, “I know what sex means.” Now, there are so many proper responses to this statement:
“What do you think it means?”
“Where did you learn about this?”
“How do you feel about it?”
“Do you have any questions about it.”
Everyone one of these seems better than what instinctively came out of my mouth:
“Well, don’t tell your brother.”
I must say I always thought I would be the parent who would talk to her kids about anything at anytime. However, I think when we make these plans we think the issue will arrive when the timing is perfect and all the stars are in line. Then when it hits you from left field the opportunity for superparenting is gone before you have a chance to engage your well-prepared openness and liberal guidance skills. Like JUST THIS MORNING at my house (really) when my 8yo son said to me over breakfast, “I know what sex means.” Now, there are so many proper responses to this statement:
“What do you think it means?”
“Where did you learn about this?”
“How do you feel about it?”
“Do you have any questions about it.”
Everyone one of these seems better than what instinctively came out of my mouth:
“Well, don’t tell your brother.”
Thanks for the comments, all. Funny how lots of similar scenarios here… either as the parent OR the child!
Warren — On Facebook, we avoid each other: like we’re somehow — impossibly — at the same party. When I stumble on him — which I have once or twice — I always close the door quickly, like I accidentally walked in on him in the bathroom.
p.s. Amy — Your comment made me laugh out loud…..
Thanks for the comments, all. Funny how lots of similar scenarios here… either as the parent OR the child!
Warren — On Facebook, we avoid each other: like we’re somehow — impossibly — at the same party. When I stumble on him — which I have once or twice — I always close the door quickly, like I accidentally walked in on him in the bathroom.
p.s. Amy — Your comment made me laugh out loud…..
Ann, my son on-demanded this movie, I haven’t seen it yet. I asked him if it was funny and he said yes and then I asked if he would be too embarrassed to watch it with me and he said yes. I let it drop at that, but I’m still dying to see it. Borat is another cringe-inducer. By the way, I always loved Roger Kaputnik in Mad Magazine!
Ann, my son on-demanded this movie, I haven’t seen it yet. I asked him if it was funny and he said yes and then I asked if he would be too embarrassed to watch it with me and he said yes. I let it drop at that, but I’m still dying to see it. Borat is another cringe-inducer. By the way, I always loved Roger Kaputnik in Mad Magazine!
Lately my son seems to be annoyed when I ask him how his day went or if he enjoyed a particular activity.
Last week, after he asked me how my day went, I expounded on all my successes and failures of the day and how I would react to them in the future. Didn’t take more than 15 minutes.
I looked at him and said, “Avery, you just asked me how my day was, and I really told you everything about it that is worth knowing (funny that it only took 15 minutes, but that’s another matter). When I ask you how your day went, I want to know just as much as I told you.”
He nodded and seemed to understand, but who really knows? He’s almost 11, and I think I stopped hanging the moon in his eyes when he turned 9.
Lately my son seems to be annoyed when I ask him how his day went or if he enjoyed a particular activity.
Last week, after he asked me how my day went, I expounded on all my successes and failures of the day and how I would react to them in the future. Didn’t take more than 15 minutes.
I looked at him and said, “Avery, you just asked me how my day was, and I really told you everything about it that is worth knowing (funny that it only took 15 minutes, but that’s another matter). When I ask you how your day went, I want to know just as much as I told you.”
He nodded and seemed to understand, but who really knows? He’s almost 11, and I think I stopped hanging the moon in his eyes when he turned 9.