These days, when objects suddenly go flying by my head, I no longer startle or flinch. I just say to myself, oh, there goes my young budding Steven Spielberg making movies again.
Will has become a sudden and eager Vine aficionado, and I have become an unlikely fan of his six-second movies, which alternately make me laugh out loud and groan in consternation.
For those of you who don’t know what Vine is, it is Twitter’s answer to movies, and Instagram has just come out with its own version of filmmaking. For a Dennis the Menace-type teenager, Vine is the coolest toy today. With the app residing on his iPhone, Will can capture clips of life in motion as it unfolds, torment and tease his friends, classmates and family, edit while he shoots, and then post immediately. Talk about the instant gratification generation.
The thing is, his videos are not only funny, they give me a unique window on his world and personality. Example: when I left the house this morning, there was a plastic cup sitting upside down on the kitchen table with water trapped inside. I can guarantee what’s coming — he’s going to wait for one of his sisters to pick it up and then shoot video of the water cascading across the table and his sister’s cries of exasperation.
I was making dinner the other night when a cherry came hurtling across the room and hit me in the back. Will, I scolded, please stop throwing food around, and then turned back to the cutting board. Before dinner was even on the table, he showed me a hilarious new Vine — his little hand in the left bottom of the screen throwing fruit bombs at Molly, at Katie, and then at me. Now I probably should not be condoning such naughty behavior in such a public forum, but truly, the fruit attack video was creative and amusing.
Another video captured his frustration with the waning days of eighth grade and his huge case of middle school senioritis. I was sitting at the computer when I jumped at a loud thud as he threw his entire binder down on the floor. Again, it was a moment ripe for a tongue-lashing — Will, what the heck are you doing? Of course, I didn’t know it then, but he was playing Hollywood director, producing what one of his best buddies called the greatest Vine he had ever seen, a six-second montage capturing Will’s ennui full force. His facial gags are spot-on funny.
This, sleeping in, and playing in lacrosse tournaments have become the key activities of Will’s summer so far. The other day he slept until 3 in the afternoon, which hardly seems possible given my perspective of getting up just about a half day earlier to get Bill to the train and me on my daily routine. But Will is doing serious work these days it seems, and that is the job of resting and growing.
Studies have shown that today’s teenagers are sleep-deprived, and I know that was true of Will and all his friends during the school year. A packed day of school and activities followed by practice and homework didn’t leave a lot of time for sleep before getting up at 6 the next morning to start the routine all over again. So like a camel storing up water for the dry spell ahead, the 14-year-old alternately seems to be catching up and hoarding sleep. Anything left over seems to be devoted to stretching out his bones and muscles.
While it is true that I seem to be shrinking — my last doctor’s appointment measured me at five-one instead of five-two, which means that my doctors have been getting it wrong for these last many decades or I need to pump up my protein and keep my bones a’growin’ — Will seems to be getting taller, literally by the day. Doctor thinks he got Bill’s genes on the growth side — glory hallelujah — and is tracking for six-one. But I consider it my job to feed him and watch him grow, much like watering a Chia pet and having it flourish in front of your eyes.
Having a boy teenager after raising two teenaged girls is such a different kind of experience. He can be grumpy, but never argumentative. He is perceptive — listening to me and Molly go at it, he observed laconically, “listening to you two argue is like watching someone arguing with themselves in the mirror. You guys are the same person so neither of you will ever win.”
He’s a sharp observer of human nature and literature. Will and the entire eighth grade have just come off their intense study of “To Kill a Mockingbird,” and a comment Bill made recently prompted Will to remark, “Dad is just like Atticus Finch.” It was a trenchant observation and touching, as it pointed to how much Will loves and respects his father.
He also once said that he wants to grow up and have kids himself because of his dad. Not to be overly sentimental, but this summer is a milestone in our lives because the baby, as he’s always been known in our family, is going off to high school. At this point in the game, I am edging ever closer to finishing out my career as suburban mom and embarking upon a new one as a suburban empty nester.
So I’m making a special point to enjoy all these summer moments, even the ones where I am exchanging words with the girls, tripping over clothes and shoes in the hallway, and dodging fruit missiles. The times, they are a changin’ and flyin’ by so fast, I don’t want to blink and miss a minute of it.
