11 April 2012

Track 10

We were riding down the street. The 11 year old was riding in the front seat, playing D.J. I drive a car with one of those things called a Compact Disc player, and I have the gigantic cd case to prove it. He was desperate to drown out all of the teachy/school songs I force upon them as we drive to and fro. He gleefully made his selection and turned up the volume.

My boys did not inherit my taste in music. I love a good movie soundtrack: 500 Days of Summer, Away We Go, Elizabethtown, Into the Wild are a few of my favs. My boys let their father dictate their musical repertoire from day one. The songs he sang to them as lullabies were written by a boy band called the Beatles. Later he introduced them to the Beastie Boys, Beck, and the ultimate-Jack White. {AC/DC, Led Zeplin, RadioHead get honorable mentions}.

Yesterday, as we were listening to the White Stripes, my soulful 11 year old said, "THIS is my all time favorite song", as he adjusted the volume. I sat speechless, listening to the lyrics. I was elated to learn something new about this love of mine. Was it the music or the words he most loved? Listening, I began to wonder/panic, "THIS-this-THIS is his all-time favorite song?!" I needed clarity without sounding judgmental. I calmly asked, "Okay, so what is it that you like about this song-the words, the sound?" He smiled as he looked out the window. "All of it." 

I have been sensing for some time that this darling boy of mine is going through some changes. He's maturing. He is quick to embarrass. Girls tease {flirt with} him-and that makes him feel very uncomfortable. He understood some of the adult humor from Ferris Bueller's Day Off that went over even his older brother's head. He politely knocks before he comes into our bedroom. He is quite modest himself. For all these reasons, I was speaking to the Mister this weekend. "I think he needs more of the "The Talk". Now let me stop right here to explain. 

Our family has an open dialogue about sex, drugs and rock and roll. Nothing is off limits. We have always shot straight with our boys and called a spade a spade {or in this case, a penis, a penis}. They ask questions, we answer {diplomatically and succinctly}. When they were little the Mister told them to care for their bodies because they would need them later in life. When asked how they would need their bodies later, the Mister told our curious little boys about Love, Sex, and Reproduction.  

Even though he is only 11, I can sense our son is ebbing further from boyhood and closer to manhood. This is both exciting and excruiating. 
So last night as he listened to Track 10 on the White Stripes album Get behind me Satan, I drove him to his father's office where they had planned to meet-just the two of them for a guy's night of burgers and laser tag and maybe a little chat on things that will carry him along this potentially awkward and tumultuous time that is approaching called puberty.

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