Filed Under: Parents 1, Smart-Ass, Teenage Son, 0

(EDIT: By request, this post has been entered into the Meanest Mom contest. I have no idea why you people think I'm anything but loving and nurturing.)

My son and his friend, Julio, spend most of their time huddled together, whispering about boobs or XBox or the latest crisis at school. They are good boys, but my son will occasionally have a brain fart.

As I was driving them around the other day, the gas bubbled up and spilled over.

"Hey, Mom. I need you to stop at Rite Aid."

He turned in his seat and looked at Julio and they both smirked.

"Why? Are you out of something?"

"No, not really. I need something, though. It starts with a 'c' and ends with 'dum'".

More smirking, with a side of giggling.

"Oh, really? "Dumb" being the operative word here because you won't have anything to use if you keep up with that shit and who the hell do you think you are my God you're only fourteen have you lost your everloving mind-"

They are laughing and having a great time and I just had a coronary.

"Ok, ok! It's an inside joke, Mom!"

It was an inside joke. He let that shit out and now it's an outside, fuck-with-Mom joke. When he saw how much it affected me, he grabbed the reins on that sonofabitch and has been riding it for days, driving me to the brink of madness.

There's nothing quite as frightening as the realization that your kids will probably act the exact same way you did when you were their age.

So, daily, I am asked to make a trip to Rite Aid. When I pale and get all sweaty, they laugh and tease me about how many illegitimate children my son is going to have because I won't buy him condoms. I asked him to stop. I ordered him to stop. Day after day, he continued.

I had no choice. I had to retaliate.

Now, in reality, my son is never even alone with a girl. He and his friends are at the age where they're curious about sex and all the goings on and that's fine. But giving me grief about being a grandma before I'm forty? Over the line.

On the way home last night, I ran into Walgreens to pick up a prescription. While I was in there, I picked up something else. When we got home, my son announced that he and Julio were going walking.

"Not now, Devon. Go in the living room. Chris and I need to talk to you."

He gave me a puzzled look.

"Can Julio come? Or is it a private talk?"

"No, Julio can take part. I think that's actually best."

Another puzzled look and he complied. When he and Julio were seated on the sofa, Chris and I launched our attack.

"Crystal, do you want to start, or should I?"

"Oh, babe, I think you should. I ... I can't."

Devon and Julio look at each other and the snickering begins. Bait taken.

With a grave look on his face, Chris began.

"Devon, son. I want to talk to you about condoms."

My son and Julio fell all over each other, gasping for air and high-fiving one another.

"Dude! I totally knew that's what this was! Oh, my God! We so pulled this off!" Devon said.

Hook. Line. Sinker.

"Devon. This is a serious matter. You need to be a little more receptive to what we're trying to do, here," I said.

He and Julio straightened themselves up and gave us their utmost, completely insincere attention.

"Mom, it was a joke. An inside-"

"No, no, I think it was more than that. I think it was your way of asking for information without actually asking-"

"Mom, honestly-"

"Shut it. And listen," I commanded. "Chris, continue."

"Devon. Your mom and I have been talking and we really want you to be safe. We know things happen and you're human, you have all these urges and hormones and....stuff."

The boys begin squirming and looking thoroughly uncomfortable. Inside joke, indeed.

"So, to make sure of that," Chris says as he reaches into his pocket and my child begins to turn an alarming shade of red, "we picked you up some protection for you and your partner."

He drops these into Devon's lap.

"One for all five of them."

As Chris and I sit smugly and watch, my son goes from amused to embarrassed to horrified to flinging them off of his lap and shrieking like a little girl, all in under two minutes. It was a thing of beauty.

"What the hell?! What are these? They're tiny! Jeez, did you pick them up at the Asian market? Holy crap! I can't believe you threw condoms in my lap! And I can't believe they're so little!"

I pissed my pants. Twice. Chris isn't breathing. We are in ecstacy.

After Devon finally calmed down, he and Julio went for their walk. Were we done? Mission accomplished?

HAVE YOU LEARNED NOTHING ABOUT ME????

When Devon returned home, he went to his room. Chris and I waited quietly in the living room.

More shrieking as he reached for his light switch.

He grabbed a paper towel and removed the offending object so he could flip the switch. Nothing. So, he turned to reach for his ceiling fan to pull the cord for the light. Shrieking.

"You guys! Gah! Seriously!" More paper towels, more cringing. When the room was finally illuminated, again with the shrieking.

"Oh, my gosh. Are there any more? In my backpack? Under my pillow?"

"Nope. Don't think so," I said.

Foolish boy.

Later, lying in bed, I heard him rummaging in the kitchen for his nightly bowl of cereal. And then shrieking.

He stormed into the bedroom.

"Condoms on the milk jug?! You guys are sick. Twisted. Sick. Ugh."

After he left, Chris asked, "Are we going to tell him what they really are?"

"Nah. Not for a few days."

I fell asleep, smile on my face. In the wee hours, when I went to get something to drink, I found a dozen tiny finger cots in the trash.

This morning, when Devon blearily stumbled to the bathroom to brush his teeth, I reveled in the sound of the squealing.

And just when he thought it was over:

Don't test me, child.