Welcome to the world of Popularity.
No, not me.
My middle son.
Who, for the record, is NOT named "Joey." No, this is a name the girls in his class gave him. And they don't just call him "Joey." They say it with giggles: "TeeheeheeJOEYHeeheeheeheehee." And, they greet him like Elvis has entered the building.
*Insert eye-rolling smiley here.*
At one awards ceremony at the school this year, my son's teacher prefaced his comments with, "Everyone knows who Joey is..." The Gigglers cheered like they just spotted Elvis. Or John. Or Paul. 'Joey' trudged up to accept his awards (hates being in the spotlight) accepted his awards, then trudged back to his seat, high fiving all the Gigglers in the front row who held their hands up for him to do so. (All of them). I swear I heard breathless, pre-swoon sighs echo throughout the multi-purpose room. Later, on my way back to my car, I passed my across the street neighbor. She rolled down her window and asked me, "Did you HEAR those girls cheering for your son?"
Uh. Yeah. Hard to miss.
I realized many years ago...back when 'Joey' was in pre-k and a little girl in his class decided she loved him and was going to marry him...that I was going to be one of "Those Mothers" of sons. The kind where the poor, hapless girl says of me, "Oh, God, I *hate* her. She's such a bitch." Seriously. And I was okay with that. I decided this when I met the little girl's father at her birthday party and he said, "So, you're the mother of the boy my girl is going to marry." My first gut reaction (silently) was, "Over my dead body."
Now, with the advent of Gigglers, I'm thinking maybe I need to soften the maternal party line. Why? I'll tell you.
Last night, I was snoozing on the couch, engaged in a family tradition (started by my Dad) called Watching The TV With My Eyes Closed, when our fierce and ferocious family watch-Shih Tzu started barking at the door.
"Bark, bark, bark..."
Trot back to Mom, to see if Mom's noticed she's barking. Mom's noticed, and the ferocious beast said to Mom, "Barrrrrrr-raaaaaaaaaaaaaaawwwww-raaaaaaaawwwwwwwwwww-ROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" and raced back to the door to bark at it more. Boy, she really told that door off before I got there and turned on the porch light.
Then, I peaked out the window.
Hmmmm...Who's that hiding in my bushes?
So I go out. In my nightgown. I notice the across the street neighbors have been hit by the Gigglers (and 'Joey's' friend who lives there, is also hiding in my bushes with the Gigglers). I heard my neighbor (we'll call her 'Mrs. M', less cumbersome) laugh. She was standing out on porch watching (we have the same house, only, yanno, across the street from each other), saw someone else's mother standing in Mrs. M's driveway...and saw a herd of Gigglers tumble out from their hiding places.
"Is Joey still up?"
"Nope."
"Awwwwwww." GIGGLEGIGGLEGIGGLEGIGGLE
Now, in the light of day, unbefuzzled by having been watching the TV with my eyes closed, I realize I should've awakened Joey. But oh well. He was pleased enough to be told the Gigglers were here TPing us last night...enough so that I have my suspicions that he likes Gigglers a bit more than he's been letting on. The rascal.
I sicced the ferocious Pikachu on the Gigglers, who screeched, retreated and giggled some more, then came out to pet the turncoat dog, once they figured out Miss Chu only wanted to give love and be loved.
Now, this morning, Joey is grinning and laughing as I tell him what happened. I asked him if his friend (we'll call him 'M'), M, knew where the Gigglers lived. "Yeah," sez Joey. "We could TP *their* houses!"
Ahhhhhhh...and so it begins. The Teenage Years...on the cusp of ending The Wonder Years, heading for, well, the "That 70's Show" years... We don't have a basement, but we do have a garage with a couch and recliner in it... and a microwave oven... And... Uh oh.
I'd best start practicing my 'Gigglers Have Cooties' speech...
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