Way, way back in the day–like, high school back in the day– back when I was a blow drying my bangs, yearning for a pair of creepers, “pinning” my pants (the late 80′s precursor to this stuff) and living the teenage dream of lovelorn angst, my parents rolled up to my High School in this loaded down to look like this. Sure, they were picking me up for a straight-outta-there, multi-hour road trip to the NorCal coast, but the suitcases topped with a folding lawn chair all strapped to roof sent my volatile sense of teen humiliation into goosed-up afterburner. Slinking down to the floorboards, I shamefully dissolved into a “it-was-20-years-ago-and-I’m-still-mortified-I did-it” tantrum of epic proportion. Back then I was thinking about how embarrassed I was– now I can only think of how embarrassed my parents must have been at having their 15-year-old writhing on the car floor.
Yeah. Not my proudest moment.
Today I found out the whole “parental embarrassment” thing has no age limit, or starts somewhere around four years old.
The revelation hit when we picked Little Dude up from preschool (“No, Papa- it’s kindergarten!”). First sign of trouble: I’m probably termed one of those “over affectionate” parents. I like to hug and squeeze and cuddle with my kids. That might be a little sissy as far as Dads go, but I do. The arms length school of cold parenting can stick it. I love Little Dude and want him to know.
My mistake.
Usually, Little Dude is pretty stoked when I roll into the garage at home, which usually gets the “run-jump” hug. Thinking school was going to get me the same treatment, I scooped the kid up and gave him a squeeze. Usually, he returns the favor with some variant of the sleeper hold, but this time he acted like I was wearing a cat poop hoodie. Arms straight to his side, he started kicking. “Nnnnnnnnn! I needa get my backpack!” I put him down and looking up, I saw one of his “friends” watching the whole scene. It was a girl.
Epiphany/Jedd Clampett Caprice Classic flashback!
Sheepishly, I walked back to the coat room with Little Dude and asked, “I shouldn’t have picked you up in front of your friend, huh.”
Shyly, “No.”
“Did that kind of embarrass you?”
Impish smile– “Yeah, Papa. It kinda did.”
And so it begins.
It may not have been a luggage strapped station wagon, but just so I remember, next time it’s low “fives” or “pound”. School time hugs are so 2008.
Hi-larious! And I clearly remember picking you up that day from Oakridge… and the fit. haha