Thursday, May 8, 2014

My Mother's Day gift

Last night I had some errands to run and my now eleven year-old son needed some clothes for camp.  It is a tradition in our school district that the 5th grade goes for three days to an outdoor adventure and leadership camp.

So we rounded up our library books that needed to be returned and the mail that needed to be sent and took off.  After we hit the library and the post office we headed to the second hand store.  The goal was to find some cargo shorts perfect for muddy hikes and camp fire nights.

We scored cargo shorts, a rain coat, and even a Nike dry fit shirt that was "epic". At least I think that's what he said.  You never know how much is genetic until you take your child shopping.  He didn't want to try anything on, and anything we looked at had to be in one of three colors. Maybe two: khaki or grey. Yep, that's my son.

Twenty minutes into the shopping trip and we are checked out and done, it took us longer to drop off the library books and the mail.  When we get back in the car my son says to me, "Can we go get ice cream?" Oh, so here it is. I said, "I don't know buddy, we don't really need ice cream."

That's when my son pulled out all the stops.  "I brought my wallet Mom, I'm buying.Please!"

How do I say no to that offer and that face. Ok. But don't tell your brother.

He chose the local ice cream chain and as I head in that direction he is asking what our tax rate is and how much I think he will need.  We pull in and both of us are already salivating over this months mystery flavor-could it be salted caramel?  Thank goodness there was a small line because both of us changed our minds 10 times. Do we share one? Do we each try something different? Do we take the mystery chance?

Meanwhile he is asking me where to find the prices on the menu and how do I know for sure what things cost.  We each ordered something different and I held his cone while he paid the high school student working the counter.  Before we stepped away I asked him if he was going to tip them. He smiled nervously and shook his head NO.

We went outside with our ice cream cones to enjoy them and the beautiful evening.  He asked me how to tip them. I explained that this isn't like a waiter, there is a tip jar on the counter and I usually throw in a dollar.

Lots of people came and went, a classmate, a teacher, a neighbor.  He laughed and said to me, "It seems like everyone is getting ice cream tonight." Now I do want to go on record, I did say thank you to him in the store, but that genetics thing crept up again. Like his father does when he takes us out, he said "Your Welcome  Mom" I think 5 times.

On the way home when I thought he was about to say Your Welcome again and I was truly starting to get a little frustrated he threw me for a complete loop. 

He said, "Thanks Mom".
"For what," I said, "You paid."
"For being the first girl I took out for ice cream."

I just smiled. I didn't want to cry, and I was afraid if I opened my mouth all that would come out would be tears.  I took a very deep breathe and said, "Your Welcome."

What greater honor could I get this Mother's Day - than to be my son's first date. The pleasure was all mine.