My son fell in love with model Bobbie Brown’s twin at a wedding recently.
The only boyfriend I ever had that my dad liked was the one I married.
He devised clever nicknames for all the rest. Around the dinner table, they became known as The Zero, Dumber, Surely Not and Long Hair. Long Hair was a beautiful god among manboys, but my pops smelled something rotten in Denmark. I will never be able to erase the image of my dad picking him up by the neck and hitting his head lightly against the wall a few times for emphasis about what was and was not permissible on dates with his daughter. I was home extra early that night and dumped rather quickly. I guess my dad knew something I didn’t — Long Hair is now doing a stretch in the pen.
All in the Family My brother didn’t fair much better in the how-to-pick-a-date department. Several just morphed into the generic, “That Crazy Blond One.” There was also Praying Mantis and She Who Shall Not Be Named. When he finally met his wife Lisa, we ended up having to give her nickname, too. We call her Lovely. Because she is even more lovely inside than out, and that’s really saying something! Tall, lean and strawberry blond, Lovely is from New Zealand. So even when she talks, it is lovely; lilting and sweet, somehow more refined and cultured.
I have told you before that I pray regularly for my kids. I pray that they will have their father’s height, brains, immune system and compassion. So far, it’s looking like they are going to be tall and really smart. But it also looks like they’re taking after me some, too. The Hubs says they look like me — when they’re up to something. Baby Girl has a stubborn streak that cannot be managed and Little Son might have inherited my questionable taste in love.
The Lady in Red The kids had the honor of taking part in their God sister’s wedding last month. It was a beautiful service and one of the most fun receptions we have ever attended. Little Son was a tad forlorn. He has had a crush on his ‘Manda for two years, and I think he was a little sad to let her go.
One of the flower girls took a shine to Little Son, and I thought whew! Now I will just have one kiddo to occupy.
“Dad! I think she wants me to be her boyfriend. But I don’t like her that way. I like the girl in the rest dress.”
Ummm … you mean the WOMAN in the red micro mini, nose ring and motorcycle boots who has on no underclothes?
You mean the WOMAN who thinks she is Tigger and has literally hopped up and down on the dance floor all night?
If you have ever seen Bobbie Brown in the “Cherry Pie” video by the hair band Warrant, you know exactly what I am talking about here. Way too sexy for a mother’s taste. Little Son immediately asked her to dance.
As one of the men at the table put it, “I’m 58 years old and I don’t think I have ever danced with a woman that hot!” And this guy’s wife is gorgeous — but I knew what he meant. His wife was a lady and always had been. This young woman looked like the kind of girl you would rob a bank for if she asked you to. The kind of girl you would cash your college fund in for so she could see the Eiffel Tower and drink real French Champagne. Which would get her entirely drunk, leading to an international incident and you on the INTERPOL list. That hot.
Three dances worth of hot before we could leave . I visited with her for a moment before we left, Little Son wanted to thank her for the dances. She was lovely, sweet and kind. She made Little Son feel important, not like some small child who was interrupting her. I was grateful. Chagrined, but grateful.
And my discomfort didn’t end anytime soon.
He cried for two days after the wedding because we had to tell him it was unlikely that he would ever see her again. And I thought that best. Not only is she too old for him, we don’t have much in his college fund.