H-T has this adorable little “quirk”. When we attend anything even closely resembling a dinner party, he disappears. Into thin air. We all arrive at the door in full bodily form. I know, because he always rushes in and lets the screen door fly back toward my face. So I am certain that he enters.
But then as soon as we have greeted our hosts, and exchanged pleasantries, I will suddenly realize that dear H-T has turned into vapor. Abracadabra, and all that jazz. Poof! Amazingly, as soon as we begin looking for our coats to leave, he reappears in full 3D solid again. It’s ridiculous that all these amateurs win millions of dollars on shows like “America’s Got Talent”, when I’ve got an honest-to-God invisible man right under my roof.
I’ve talked to him multiple times about it. His excuse is that adult talk bores him.
The kid is so misinformed. Just in the last year, I have found out the following facts at dinner gatherings:
- One friend of ours is having her breasts enlarged – – for the second time!
- One cousin is planning on leaving her husband for her son’s violin teacher
- Two local Christian evangelists have been having more than just prayer meetings together
Yes, this is the kind of stuff that my son’s disappearing act is keeping him out of the loop on! Sad, but true.
So tonight, knowing that we were heading to yet another dinner, I tried my logical approach. “There is going to be family there that you have never even met. Don’t you want to finally find out who to blame for that big nose of yours?”
When that didn’t work, I thought maybe I could appeal to his desire for education. “Uncle Clarence fought in World War II, you know. Maybe he can tell you something that will help you in Call of Duty.”
When he still wasn’t biting, I decided bribery might be a much more successful tactic. “Ok, so if you will sit at the dinner table for 30 minutes, and listen to the conversation, I will quiz you at home about something that was said, and if you get it right, then the next Starbucks Frozen Frappucino is on me. Deal?”
And he did. He sat there for the better part of the evening. He laughed at the stories. He asked questions. He even came back to the table once or twice just to hear a little more.
The best part? I got to look at that gorgeous nearly 13-year-old face across the table in all it’s opaque glory! I was incredibly proud of him. He may be out of the running for the next reality competition, but if he can remain visible, I think he may have a good chance at dodging that “borderline personality disorder” diagnosis.
Hey, a mom can dream. And start looking for loose change for that Frappucino.