I love my son as much as any mom can love a monosyllabic teenager – and saying “monosyllabic” takes longer than the average time my son wants to spend with me in a week. My younger friends who have small children keep complaining that their little ones get out of their bedrooms at night to ask for glasses of water and one more bedtime story. I would love nothing more!
My son’s eye-rolling has now taken on mythical proportions (they should make the eye-roller derby an Olympic sport). It is especially potent when combined with the utterance of the phrase “whatever,” which is just the teenage version of a tantrum-throwing toddler screaming “NO!” He did recently manage to speak a full sentence, and it was in that very special moment that I had a brilliant idea. The words my son spoke were, “MOM! Just give me some space.”
So, I am taking this request to its logical extreme and want to give my son all the space he needs. By sending him to space.
On his recent space trip, Jeff Bezos took with him a Dutch teenager named Oliver. Is Bezos offering all parents the chance to send their children into space with him? Perhaps he is trying to make amends for not paying taxes by offering support to exasperated moms. Come to think of it, the way I heroically enter into battle with my son’s moods every day makes me quite the legendary amazon. It’s all falling into place.
I am now petitioning Jeff – or any other billionaire, for that matter – to take my son with him on his planned trip to the moon, with the stipulation that he leave him there until he has turned 18. Or 21. Not yet decided on that one. Maybe 25. Let’s see how the summer holidays pan out.
Just in case Jeff, or any other very rich dude who wants to prove his manhood through intergalactic travel (a futile endeavor, in my opinion. I’m no expert, but I am pretty sure I’ve read that straight women feel a man’s true masculine worth resides in his capacity to do the dishes once in a while) is not going to sponsor my son’s need for space, I am asking for your help. Think of it as the aeronautic version of buying a few boxes of Girl Scout Cookies. Please help out and send $10 or whatever you can afford. I bet you Oliver’s mom enjoyed her 11 minutes of freedom. Please help me chill out for the best part of this decade.