Thursday, April 4, 2013

Hangin' in a sweatbox with my shorty

Thanks to a very kind local radio personality (LTI you rock! and your wife is adorable) my cred with the shortys went up about 100% yesterday. We were lucky enough to be given tickets to see a hip hop show, headlined by an artist The Boy really likes, and share his very first concert experience together.
Once again solidifying my title as WORLD'S OKAY-EST MOM.

Spouse and I are old concert goers from way back. So we knew what to expect and were prepared for questions that The Boy might have while out at the show.

I could tell that The Boy was a bit over whelmed. I was forced to stop and view the experience that I have had a hundred times through his eyes and have to admit, he was a good sport and showed as much patience as a 9 year old boy could muster with eyes wide open. This was something very new, and not an NHL Hockey game viewed from a luxury suite, or cushy symphony seats. (spoiled kid)
This seemed dirtier, for lack of a better word.

The list of experiences roll like this
- the waiting. rush seating, (or standing). Hanging out in a cold line up with a bunch of rowdy older teens and twenty somethings. Patience is a virtue and the concept of not having a seat number was a little hard for him to grasp. I was very reassuring. "there will be enough room for everyone- I promise"

-being searched at the door. Door staff were great and allowed The Boy to go through with me, a benefit of being 9. Eyes rolled while Mum joked with the female security staff about the amount of crap in my 'mom' purse and how it's a catch all for our kid's junk. "why do they have to search my hat? I'm just a kid?" Meanwhile I'm thinking, be grateful they didn't make you remove your shoes and socks, show your waistband, look inside your mouth and pat you down little buddy.

-being singled out in line by kind security guard. I could tell he was almost mortified when the friendly  security guard asked The Boy if this was his first concert. Busted, as all eyes turned to see him and smile. "It's gonna be loud buddy" said kind security man. The Boy's eyes almost popped out of his head, heeding the warning, and he glanced over his shoulder to me looking for reassurance that this was going to be OK.
"No louder than Monster Trucks man"  

- Pink Gorilla suit guy. There's one in every crowd and I take that for granted. "why is that guy dressed in a pink gorilla suit?" obvious question. Answer. not so obvious as I struggled to come up something that made sense to a very sensible kid. I said that he probably wears it to every concert, and sometimes to school. The Boy and I laughed.

- Swearing. Yes it's Hip Hop and there's tonnes of it. The Boy is subjected to enough of it around the house to understand the context, and knows better than to repeat what he hears. He can thank me, the world's Okay-est Mom and Spouse for that lesson. However I'm pretty sure he wasn't expecting how many
f-bombs and times the word shit were actually used.

-Weed. The big one, I knew it was coming. The ever present smell and the always entertaining spectacle of a rush of security guards tackling a pot smoker. Pure joy for me, because I do love being witness to a good behind the back tackle. But something completely foreign to The Boy. and for that I am glad.
The topic was briefly discussed while we walked to the car from the theatre, 'what was that smell?' asked the boy. The venue was small and I have to admit, even the smoke got to me after a while (my age is showing). But not the worst exposure to weed I've ever encountered by a long mile. I tried to explain in simple terms weed, pot, grass, dope. Grasping for words he may be familiar with and very relieved when he looked at me like a deer in the headlights. He had no fucking clue. WINNING.Yo.

I did my very best to fit in and not embarrass The Boy.
I used restraint and didn't resort to my 'street' language by starting and ending every sentence with 'yo'
yo, parking was sketchy, yo.
I even looked up how to dress properly for the event. You can find anything on the internet.

So The Boy is returned, no worse for wear, and early no less. 
He pulled the pin, was tired and was very surprisingly responsible knowing it was a school night -
and appears to have very little scarring. 

we are safe and sound, back in our crib, yo. 

I could have stayed though....yo. cuz that's how I roll.  

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