Tuesday, June 16, 2009
My Sweet Little Goth
"Mom, I want to be goth."
"Goth? What do you mean?"
"You know, like black clothes and scary makeup."
"Dude. You're six. You can't be goth."
"When can I be goth?"
"When you are older."
"Like a teenager?"
"Yes. When you are a teenager, you can be goth."
.........................
An hour later, he comes out of my room with brick red lipstick smeared around his mouth, complete with fake blood drips down his chin, asking if he can use my eyeliner to make fake stitches on his arm. We discuss everything that is wrong with this scenario, from rooting around in my makeup without permission to why he wants to look so scary.
.........................
As I am tucking him into bed, he asks, "When I'm a teenager and I am goth, how old will I be?"
"Eighteen, honey. That's a good age to be goth."
10 hugs, 10 kisses. I nuzzle his neck, smooth his hair, run my hand down his back. Barely 3 1/2 feet tall, 44 pounds. He's so little, and yet he's so... MUCH.
As I move to the door, he mumbles, "I think I'll be goth when I'm 13. THAT'S when you turn to a teenager."
I whisper, "How about 16? You can be goth when you are 16."
The last thing I hear as I shut the door is, "How about 14? That's a good compromise."
Nothing like a little late-night negotiating of future alternative lifestyles, huh?
(We settled on 15.)
"Goth? What do you mean?"
"You know, like black clothes and scary makeup."
"Dude. You're six. You can't be goth."
"When can I be goth?"
"When you are older."
"Like a teenager?"
"Yes. When you are a teenager, you can be goth."
.........................
An hour later, he comes out of my room with brick red lipstick smeared around his mouth, complete with fake blood drips down his chin, asking if he can use my eyeliner to make fake stitches on his arm. We discuss everything that is wrong with this scenario, from rooting around in my makeup without permission to why he wants to look so scary.
.........................
As I am tucking him into bed, he asks, "When I'm a teenager and I am goth, how old will I be?"
"Eighteen, honey. That's a good age to be goth."
10 hugs, 10 kisses. I nuzzle his neck, smooth his hair, run my hand down his back. Barely 3 1/2 feet tall, 44 pounds. He's so little, and yet he's so... MUCH.
As I move to the door, he mumbles, "I think I'll be goth when I'm 13. THAT'S when you turn to a teenager."
I whisper, "How about 16? You can be goth when you are 16."
The last thing I hear as I shut the door is, "How about 14? That's a good compromise."
Nothing like a little late-night negotiating of future alternative lifestyles, huh?
(We settled on 15.)
Labels: Peanut, so cute I could puke
12 Comments:
About
Velma is, alas, a pseudonym. I live with my family on Cape Cod, where I attempt to successfully blend in with the normal folk. You'd never guess the darkness that lurks in my heart.
(Insert evil cackle and rubbing of hands together.) For more about me, click HERE to read all my personal details and dirty fantasies.
I make lots of random stuff, but my Etsy shop is currently empty because I haven't taken pictures of any of the stuff I've been making yet.
You can also find me here:
and here:
http://iphone.mobilechamps.com/mydad.html
Love the compromising and the stories you have to tell him when he's 12, 13, 14 or 15 and going through yet another identity crisis ;-)
Just as I'm hoping my daughter gets over wanting a pony by the age of 8 1/2.
The beauty of the goth phase is that makeup washes off. He could have wanted to join a gang or a cult.