Last night, my teenage son invited me to go to a hardcore concert with him and three of his friends. We took a 35 minute train ride to Philadelphia and talked, joked and laughed the entire time. I talked about hair dye with his pretty girlfriend. The boys discussed their plans to mosh as much as possible.
We got off at the 30th Street Station, and walked to 21st and Chestnut where we found the concert venue. My son entered with his friends -- and I continued walking toward 18th and Walnut with my husband. Once we arrived in Rittenhouse Square, we chose the Devon Seafood Grill for dinner. Afterwards, we walked around and admired dogs and their walkers. As we approached Broad Street, we encountered what seemed to be a Civil War parade. The small army and their horses were briefly amusing.
I was wearing four inch heels, so after an hour of walking we decided to take a cab to Old City to do some shopping and people watching. It was a pleasant clear and cool evening. Next time I go downtown, I think I will have to wear something a little more practical for walking. My feet are snuggled in UGG slippers today.
How many teenagers invite their mom to hang out with them? My son has even told me that he would like to take me to school with him someday. My son is a likable, funny character. He is bright, charming and cool enough to get away with teasing his teachers. I think he wants me to see his good rapport with other students and teachers. However, I would not even consider asking the school to let me tag along as his parental unit for a day. I’m not sure whey he would either. He is a piece of work.
I love that he has friends from a variety of ethnic and economic backgrounds. He makes plans with them to see movies and concerts, etc. He also has remained close to the boys who he grew up with in our neighborhood. I am happy that he seems to really enjoy life. He embraces new experiences with confidence and excitement. Being with him is refreshing. I am so lucky, overjoyed in fact, that he is part of me/my life.
He crashed at his friend’s place after the concert. He called me first thing this morning from his cell phone, while he was waiting in a line of cars filled with students on their way to do community service at a church in Philadelphia. They had planned to help build homes for Habitat for Humanity, but the school changed plans, as there were too many volunteers. The school requires that all students do twenty hours of community service per school year, which I think is fantastic.
My son reported that he got punched in the face at the concert. He assured me that it was an accident that occurred during frenzied dancing. He’s okay—and he told me that he loved me. I’ll see him for dinner.
We promised our daughter that we will take her on a train ride tomorrow.