Sunday, September 13, 2009
“Yes I are” a TV Star
“I be TV Mom.”
It’s been a long day and I’m dozing in the chair. I’m dreaming, of course.
“Mom, I be TV.” Maybe I’m not dreaming.
I open one eye. There stands my son. He has his CD microphone in his hand, ready to break out in song. Maybe he’s just assuming the position. Wait a minute, he’s starting to sing. I want to put my hands over my ears because he’s incredibly tone deaf, but I don’t want to hurt his feelings. Still, there is a thing called self preservation. The hands go to my ears. Someone is not getting the message, because he has just turned up the volume. Honestly, how loud can a boy sing?
“See? I star!”
I say “You wanna be on TV?”
He says “Yea, can I Mom? Pleeeeease?” Like I’m a talent scout and can snap my fingers and he’ll be on American Idol.
I say “Why do you want to be on TV?”
He whispers as if someone will hear him, “Girls.”
I say, “You think if you were on TV, then girls will like you?”
“He says, “That’s it!”
I say, “Son, girls already like you.”
He says, “No Not.”
“Well I’m a girl, and I like you.”
He says “Stop it Mom.”
So I say, “I bet if you ask any girl if they like you, they will say yes.”
He says, “I be TV,” then he runs to his room to get his high school yearbook, flips to a page and points. “Her!”
Uh oh, he’s talking about a real living breathing girl, and he’s got a crush.
“She’s cute,” I say.
“And HOT!” he says.
“Consider this your first and final warning,” I say, “Watch your mouth.”
He laughs out loud. I’m not a bit shocked by his choice of words but he doesn’t have to know that. Nothing makes him happier than to think he’s ruffled my feathers.
I say, “I bet Jessie likes you.”
He says, “No not, boyfriend.”
I say, “Jessie has a boyfriend?”
He says, “Uh huh. I be TV.” And then he slumps down into the couch and crosses his arms. He’s mad.
So I say, “Son, sometimes people already have boyfriends; it has nothing to do with you.”
“She no love me Mom.” Now he’s groaning.
“I’m sure she likes you, son.”
“Me date her mom.”
“But son, you can’t go around dating other people’s girlfriends.”
“Yes I are!” he says.
It is clear the conversation has hit a brick wall.
“There, there, that!” He’s pointing at the TV.
Zac Effron is on and I was right, he’s been watching way too much High School Musical.
He says,” I be a mouse MOM,” (which in Charley language means I wanna be famous).
Don’t we all?
I look at my lovesick puppy. My heart breaks for him. He’s a 4 year old in a big body – how confusing it must be to see all the other guys at school having girlfriends. After all, he just wants to walk off into the sunset hand in hand, and why not? We all want a little romance, don’t we?
I’m gonna have to think of something. “Son,” I say, “why don’t you show me some of your friends in your yearbook?”
He hasn’t let me look at the book since he got it, and that was back in May. I don’t know why but he’s allowed everyone else to see, but it was off limits where Mom was concerned.
Well guess what? He’s letting me see it now, because he’s flipped through each of the pages at least 25 times. The flood gates have opened and when we sat down to look at the annual, it was Monday. Now it’s Thursday. I’m exaggerating of course. Or maybe not. And here we sit, looking through the yearbook making up for the lost time when he wouldn’t even let me see it. I may be 95 years old by the time we are finished.
He points to a girl in his class. “That’s Sammie!”
Then he points to Miss Tudor, and says “I like her!”
He proceeds to point out all of the faculty in the book. “See? Miss Morgan.”
He points to Mr. Bailey. “He’s my friend,” he says.
I say, “Charley you wouldn’t see Sammie, and Tudor, and Bailey if you were on TV.”
He says, “Huh?”
“And you wouldn’t see me or Dad either.”
I say, “Because you’d be in TV land.”
He says, “Huh?”
“TV land, you know, that’s where all those famous people live,” I say.
“It’s far, far away.”
I can tell he’s thinking about that because he’s quiet.
I say, “Why don’t you stay here with me and all of us unfamous people? We’re not exciting, but we love you bunches, Charley.”
He says, “You’re my mom,” and then starts flipping through the pages again.
So far tonight I’ve missed MASH, Paula Deen, the Evening News with Katie Couric, Judge Judy, and Burn Notice. Some of my favorite shows. I’ll tell you what I haven’t missed though. I haven’t missed the TV one bit. I’ve had a ring side seat on the Late Night Show of Charley Palmer, and aren’t I glad? You can’t buy entertainment like that. Who’d-a-thunk it? I didn’t have the TV on and haven’t missed a thing.