The secret is out

Obviously you’ve the seen the photo accompanying this blog and it includes my son’s picture. Since he had to be in a photo, I was forced to confess to him that I was writing the blog. Here’s a reenactment of how that unfolded. Scene 1. Me arriving home from work to find son in his usual position on the sofa watching Battlestar Galactica on the sci-fi channel. Son is surrounded by a mostly empty bag of Doritos, pizza crusts, orange rinds and a giant glass of some blue colored liquid. Me: “Son, I need to talk to you about something important so when you can give me your undivided attention please let me know.? Son: immediately switches off TV. •Whatever it is, I didn’t do it.? Me: smugly happy that Catholic guilt has its advantages. •Actually, I’m writing a blog at work, and you’re the topic. Do you know what a blog is?? Son: •No idea.? So I explain to him what it is, and why we•re doing it, blah, blah, blah. Me: “I wanted you to know about it because I’ll be writing about you and the things you say and do. Are you okay with it?? Son: •Yeah, sure? Me: •Cool! We’re meeting the other moms and their kids tomorrow to have our pictures taken.? Son: •For what?? Me: •To use on the website for the blog.? Son: by now the master of two-word responses •No way!? Me: •Come on, you’ll be famous!? Son: •How much?? Me: •Twenty bucks.? Son: •Okay, fine.? Now I just gotta figure out how to expense that. Scene 2. Lincoln Park. Other moms and kids are there. So is Gretel who has spent a long day photographing exploding poop bombs. Son and I are last to arrive, running late because son broke the no-kids-in-the-house-when-I•m-not home-unless-you-have-my-permission rule and is not happy with the consequences. He is now pulling a pout meant to embarrass me. We proceed getting our pictures taken with (most) everyone having a good time. Me: “Gretel, let’s see the pictures.? Gretel shows us the pictures and we all agree we look great. Me: •I can’t tell if my son is smiling.? Gretel: •I don’t think he smiled in any of them.? Son: •Twenty bucks?? Me: •You’re not smiling!? Son: •Okay, ten.? At least that•ll be easier to expense.