Driving home the other day, I saw two of The Boy's former friends. These boys' parents and I are also friends in the neighbourhood. I've been seeing these two boys for years. They are usually together, on their skateboards.
The last time I ran into them, I was walking. They are always friendly and polite with me, inquiring after The Boy, telling me what they and their families are up to. I always thought, nice kids, gonna be real good looking one day.
That day has arrived.
So there I saw them again, after almost a year, still skating on the sidewalk. But they were different. They weren't boys. They were young men. Really good looking ones. Cool and wholesome, one after the other, minding their own business, skateboarding to wherever they were going. They looked like young gods, whizzing by my car window, tall and lean, with spendid hair, mischievious grins, sculpted arms and straight backs.
When I was in high school, they would have been the kind of boys I'd stare at, hoping against hope that they would look my way too. I wondered who the lucky girls are who get to go out with them. I wondered if they still play soccer. I thought about the young gardener and Gabrielle on Desperate Housewives. Then I slapped myself. They are my friends' children.
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After you slap yourself silly, give yourself a good kick in the butt. To even think about your son's friends in that way. Ewww!
Age is the determining factor for me. People can have relationships with each other as long as they aren't young enough to be your kids or old enough to be your parents (or grand parents for that matter). What a thought, eh? It's like that episode on Sex and The City when Samantha was dating the 72-year old. Ewww!
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