I’ve been a mom for a few years now. You could say I’ve been around the block more than once. If there is one thing I’ve learned, it is that you are always worried about someone. In fact, I think the best you can hope for, as a parent, is that by this time next year, you will be on to worrying about the next child, and your current woe is, if not forgotten, at least a fuzzy memory.
Dillon is my 16-year-old. He is smart, funny, quiet, doesn’t like to be embarrassed, and… almost never a worry. I have to modify that with “almost” because only a stupid parent thinks their kid never has any problems. But Dillon worries more about other people than himself, and…I’m not sure how to word this…but he sort of effortlessly maintains the highest of standards. Effortlessly is maybe not the best word. He has created a moral oasis for himself. If there is a line you shouldn’t cross, he doesn’t walk it. Not only does he not even go near the line, but he somehow manages to exude sort of a disinterest about it…like he never noticed the line was there to begin with. He spreads that to his friends so that they all think it is cool to stay far from the line.
If he has a weakness, it is pranks. I don’t know where he gets that…I seem to recall something about a whole soccer goal ending up on the roof of the elementary school. Hmm. That, and he shuns homework. I do know where he gets that.
Oh, and Dillon and I have a thing. We watch “The Biggest Loser” together while eating an ultra-high-calorie meal. His taste runs toward Rubio’s, like a shrimp burrito and several fish tacos. There is something decadent about stuffing oneself while others are deprived, and worked out until they cry and/or throw up.
Well, that is Dillon. And I am off…to worry about one of the other ones.