It is 8 p.m. on a Thursday night and my son is at the movies. This might not sound like anything extraordinary but it is. My son is 13 and he is at the movies with a friend (guy) and three other friends (girls). This is a first. For all of us. (And, yes, thanks, I am surviving :o)

So… this started at 5 p.m. while I was still at work. A simple ringing of a phone that I am still not used to. (I’ve had a cell phone for perhaps a month now.) And yes this was during a work conversation with a colleague.

“Excuse me. Sorry. It’s from home. We still don’t have our phone rules down. Sorry. Yes?”
“Hello Eric. I can’t talk now. I’ll call you back.”

“No really. I can’t. I’ll call in 5 minutes.”

“No.”

“Fine. What? Be quick.”

“Tonight?”

“With whom?”

“Okay.”

“Yes.”

Notably to the “With whom?” question I heard his guy friend’s name. None other. And the last “Yes.” was in response to a question about whether or not I’d be home in time to get him to the 7 p.m. screening. So I rushed home (well I was feeling rushed while I was sitting stuck in traffic :o), made a quick dinner (tuna fish sandwiches and chicken noodle soup, yes, from an envelope) and there I was putting my boots on again. My children were doing the same.

“So Mom… now that I’m 13 and if we want to see a film for 13-and-over, will you come in with me to tell the ticket seller than I really am 13?”

<Insert a long short story of a lost student id here. Add a bunch of sighing and whimpering — mine — and end it with “Okay.”>

Off we went.

On the way, I heard that “they” were actually 5 and not 2, that 2 of the 5 wanted to see a scary 13+ film but that the other 3 of the “they” likely didn’t want to. So the film choice was still up in the air.

We parked at the theatre, had a bit of a discussion around why I couldn’t just pretend that my son was an only child for a moment and leave his younger sister in the car, and entered the lobby of the theatre. Yup. Standing in wait. Completely in silence… a singular guy and 3 lovely (yes, this was completely striking) girls. My son joined the bunch. My daughter and I said “Hello.” (hoping that we were convincing in our “confidence” that we too belonged there for some good reason). My daughter and I did then quickly pulled back and the quiet group-plus-Eric’s-mom-and-sister become a very animated bunch of 13 year-olds. This lasted a while. Then there was “group” movement and I stepped forward again…

“Umm… hello. What’s happening? Are you going to buy the ticket now?”

“Ya but you can go Mom. We’ve decided to see a general movie. I’ll call you after the film. Bye.”

Dismissed. Amazed. A little nonplussed by it all. Getting my son to change his mind about the film he wants to see takes… well… three 13 year-old girls I guess. Somehow I thought that this moment would come with what? Neon signs maybe. Not tuna fish sandwiches.

On the way out I reflected aloud “He was nervous.”. My daughter asked “What about?” (She’s 10 :o) I said “Oh… because of the girls.” and she let out an incredulous “What?” followed after a bit by “But that’s like us.”

Yup. Just like us.

And my life flashed before me. Truly. But… those flashes — with all of the known and the unknown, all that is there to be discovered — were lovely. And right. Saying anything at moments like that is not possible. Or necessary.

And… on the way out of the parking lot… flashes (perhaps even “hot”) aside, I chuckled and said that in the theatre lobby I had caught myself leaning in to kiss my son goodbye. And/but I didn’t. My daughter said “Boy… Eric wouldn’t have spoken to you for a week for that.”

Yes. And life goes on.

And — I’m happy to report — that when I went back to pick Eric up after the movie, I told him about my almost "faux pas". His response to that was that he leaned in and gave me a kiss. Yes, in front of his friends.

Perfect is pretty perfect.

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