Mom's Shutdown

I was on the way home this afternoon and had a sudden flash: Why not stop at the local ice-cream parlor and treat myself to a burger for supper plus a nice dessert? So of course I obeyed the impulse. It was not yet rush hour at the ice-cream place and I had my choice of seats. With no thought whatsoever I sat two tables away from a threesome: Two boys and a woman.

  The boys were enjoying themselves with a phone or perhaps a hand-held gaming unit. They sat together as tightly as possible, sometimes leaning forward onto the table top. There were four busy hands all over the little console and two heads bumped tightly together. The table bore testimony to their appetites. They had consumed huge burgers and big servings of fries. Now - when they could take their hands away from the game - they were working on ice-cream sundaes.

   I analyzed them. They were pre-pubertal, although crowding the mark. One of them leaned against the woman from time to time but the other boy never touched her. Therefore, the boy with the big butt, black shorts and brown hair was the woman's son.

  The other one (blonde, smaller and thin) was respectful of the woman but that's as far as it went. Examining that data, the two boys couldn't be brothers. One was the woman's son and the other was his friend, possibly best friend. Or even best-best-best friend. The whole group enjoyed each other. It didn't seem to be anybody's birthday, just one of those great moments when boys have fun being boys. Occasionally the guys dissolved into laughter, grabbing each other or trading light punches with their fists.


  At one point Big-Butt leaned back in his chair. His T-shirt slid up, revealing his navel. Skinny immediately poked his bud's bare belly-button with a finger and the two of them nearly fell off their chairs laughing and grabbing handfuls of each other.

  Another minute or so passed. Skinny pushed his chair back and announced, "I'm going to the bathroom."

 Big-Butt stood also, clearly intending to accompany his friend. But there was a complication.

  "One at a time in the restroom," Mom stated. She didn't raise her voice, didn't make a big deal out of it. But she had made her position clear.

  "Oh," said the skinny boy, surprised. There was an element of disappointment in his voice as if he'd been totally blindsided.

  "Mom!" Big-Butt protested. "We're in the fifth grade!"

 But there was no discussion and the boys went to the restroom one at a time. It seemed to me that they returned to the table much sooner than if they'd made a buddy-buddy expedition out of it.

I couldn't help adding my own silent protest: "Oh, Mom! Don't be a grinch!"

Arnold Stockford