Canada (Photo credit: palindrome6996)

Sometimes I hear words spouted from people’s mouths and think… wow you aren’t the person I thought you were.

I am struggling with cultural values lately. Maybe it has more to do with society’s lack of empathy for others. It is happening at work, with friends and at home.  It very possibly could be me and I am not seeing the whole picture, but suddenly I am feeling like a minority in the way I think. This has happened to me before when I lived in Yellowknife, North West Territories.

I was 6. I was in Mrs. Long’s grade one class. I believe we were the only grade only class but I could be mistaken…I was 6 afterall. I was often one of only a handful of kids who went to school regularly – The aboriginal population would take their children off to the bush and hunt for long periods of time. That left 4 of us in class some days. Me, Maria, Admira (who was MEAN and stole stuff) and Doug – he would eat all the crayons left out. I remember hearing the teachers (who were primarily white middle class from southern Canada) talk about the aboriginal kids and if only the parents would send their kids to school on a regular basis, what a difference it would make to their future…. hmmm would it?

I hear myself saying the same thing in my classroom. This child needs to come to school everyday, what a difference it would make!

Sure it would. They would be able to speak English, have that advantage when learning to read, absorb my values that I deem important. Yikes… Who am I to say what this child needs? I like to think my values are typically Canadian. Girls can grow up and own property, vote, have a say in their lives. Girls should be able to run and laugh without having to worry what the boys might think. It feels like I have to fight for women’s rights all over again when all those women who came before me did a decent job…clearly it wasn’t enough.

I sat in my quite living room with my family last night talking about traveling to Eastern Europe. We talked about visiting Auschwitz in Poland. I want my children to learn about cultural oppression and feel its wrath and wrongness. A comment came up about the horrible feeling going back to Germany. Wait a minute…what? I need to educate my family on the difference between Nazis and Germans. I am German. I did not contribute to the Holocaust. I am helping the fight against wrong doing but teaching what happened to my children. I hear phrases like, how could they do that? Who the Germans or the Nazis? We don’t know what they were thinking being in that position. We can only learn from it and not do it ourselves.

Here I am in the 21st century, starting to feel like I am losing my cultural heritage and feeling helpless because the laws and policies of today are allowing freedoms of others and forcing me to be sympathetic to them…yet no one is seeing that I need the same consideration. I feel like I am drowning in a sea of political correctness while the wolves are being crafty and taking advantage of the good natured Canadians. It makes me want to leave. But where do I go?

Karmic payback for thousands of years? OR do I just not get it?

Today was the first day since forever I wished I wasn’t what or who I am. Why is that you say? Well, because…

I face paint occasionally for corporate parties in and around Edmonton. I specialize in cheek art but sometimes I am paired with another artist who only does full face. There is often a line up of children as far as the eye can see. I can knock off a decent piece in 5 minutes or less. Typically this is the type of stuff I do,

I am well equipt for things like that. Small brushes, small pallets of paint and sparkles. Days like today, I need to be prepared for someone to say…I WANT THAT! Hmmm okay. I can copy most things. If you have a picture I can draw it. But it takes more time… The kids are great and could care less how long they are in line for. It is their parents that put the pressure on you to speed it up. This particular party was the best kind. The parents stayed back and let their children come forward alone. I had requests like “I want to be sparkly beautiful” Or “I need a pirate patch…do you know what a good one looks like?” My favorite was “WOW you don’t colour outside the lines! I wish I could do that!”

My first paint of the day started off with a tragic event.

A young girl about 5 came running up to me. Yes there was other entertainers waiting to start. Chairs were empty and we were just beginning. This little one ran up to me with tears in her eyes telling me how her brother clobbered her on the side of her ear. She hugged me and sat in my chair. Her little hands were placed on my knees as she retold the tragic events of the day. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. I listened with the sympathetic ear that only another sister could understand. Then I asked her what did she need to feel better? Was there anything I could do?

She looked at me thoughtfully and said very solemnly “I need a face paint”

I rejoiced! I told her she came to the right place and I was the one who could help her!! I wiped her tears and asked her what her preference was. I have no examples at my station because I will do anything they ask for. Children have their own vision and will tell you how they want the details to appear. Besides it cuts down a TON of time if they don’t have anything to choose from.

This young one wanted a full face butterfly with sparkles and it had to be pink and purple. So I painted her full face with her nose as the center of the butterfly. I added white at the end for sparkle and shine and silver glitter to top it off.

As I held the mirror up to her face, I was rewarded with a smile that melts the stoniest of hearts. She said, “I feel so much better now that I am a butterfly!” She made my day. The best part? It got better from then on in.

As I reflect back over my 20 odd year career as a children’s entertainer, I can remember specific kids who left me with a long lasting impression during that 5 minutes we spent together. I remember the bald little girl with the blue eyes who wanted a sunflower on the top of her head like a hat. Then she had me paint eyelashes on her pretty little face. There was a little boy who loved trains. He didn’t want Thomas like all his buddies did but wanted Duncan. I happened to know who Duncan was because my son was a lover of the Thomas Train Stories too. He lit up like a Christmas tree when he saw how accurate I was. My favorite was a tiny little baby who was fussing but mom insisted I paint her. Mom held her in her lap as I talked to the baby. She stopped crying and just stared at me. She sat very still while I painted a stream of ladybugs down the side of her face. The end of the day, I walked past her and she reached for me to hug. Her mom threw her into my arms and we shared a moment.

But to have the chance to be 5 again? When a simple butterfly can make all the pain of the day go away. That sounds like heaven to me.

I have the next best thing…I get to paint them.

I have hag hair, jammies and Newfie socks…I am not going anywhere looking like this. I save this special look for my family…they don’t care how I look as long as they get food for dinner. I may treat myself to a comfortable chair and move to my son’s office chair, but other than that, if you need me, I will be firmly ensconced in front of my dying computer screen.

There is a loose connection somewhere in my screen and the screen will flicker with vibrations within the room. Good thing I do not live on a fault line or I would never see what I write and it would be a crap shoot for marks from my Prof. I have a certain level of expectation for marks and a failing screen will not help. I hope a few band-aid solutions (tilting the screen into the perfect position 500 times a day) will help. The pay off are these:

Worth it? You bet! They are comfy, cozy and slouchy. Brings back to my summer camp days of slouchy socks and Birkenstocks! Beautiful? No…but not caring. I have had an emotional week. I experienced every emotion, including shock. I heard my mom say the F word with ‘en on the end for added emphasis. My son thought it was awesome, in fact his words were “What an Epic Day! First we had early dismissal, then we win a curling match, then Grandma swears! EPIC!”

I grew up in a Print Shop. My mom and grandfather worked their fingers to the bone and I learned language that would make a sailor blush. Hearing these words from my mom was shocking, but I already knew them. For the record, my mom NEVER SWEARS. Not since that fateful New Years when she made that resolution. Sugar was the word of choice. We would tease her and offer up alternatives like, Shatner! or Snickerdoodle! or Fudgcicles! We would randomly mock her with these alternatives until the situation was diffused. However, even I knew not to tease and mock her after last Thursday night.

My parents (an elderly senior couple – wow I think I just mocked her – I should clarify here. My mom tells the world that she is 75 so they can tell her how great she looks. I will not disclose her age but she is WAY younger than 75 but old enough to be a “senior” and does look fabulous for her age of 75 which is 10 years younger than her mom) took their car to to Mr. Lube to have their Oil Changed. Clearly there was some sort of miscommunication because the oil was not changed, just removed.

My parents then drove home, or should I say attempted to drive home. Their route follows a long and dark country road, before meeting up with the freeway to take them to their home in the city. They live close to a suburb and often will use it’s services instead of competing with hoards of people within the city.

I received a call from my dad asking me to rescue my mom who was stranded on a dark stretch of highway in the country. I grabbed my son and off we went. For the record, my dad was being the hero – mom doesn’t need rescuing. She is tough as nails and I pity Mr. Lube. They have never felt a wrath like hers. My parents will play good cop/bad cop. Dad swoops in and is all kind and nice, saving the db doofus from a fate worse than my mother’s wrath. My mom said THE WORD. It starts with an F has an uck in it and ended with en. Apparently that spells EPIC! My son was quite proud of the list of events my mom was going to do to Mr. Lube.

On the way home he said to me, wow…epic…no wonder you were afraid of her when you were a kid.

For the record, nothing scares me.

except birds… maybe mice… but that is the official stance of fear from the Edmonton Tourist.

This is part of the reason I need my Newfie Socks this week…. It is also the long weekend here in Alberta. That’s right JUST ALBERTA! Take THAT Ontario! This is the only good thing that former Premier Getty ever did. A long weekend in the middle of February. That and win a Grey Cup in 1956. Staying at home and being comfy is what I need – in spite of having to work tomorrow…it’s just face painting, so that will be funish. And I need some comfort because my ear is bruised.

What? You didn’t hear? How is that possible? I received 40 comments, emails and private messages regarding this matter. I pierced my ears this week and not in the conventional way of going to a piercing artist and having them jab a needle into my ear…no I am too cheap for that. I had my ears re-pierced several weeks ago in a tattoo shop. It was simple. In 1982, I had my ears double pierced. What i didn’t know was I was allergic to gold. My ears were always infected so I let them grow over. The scar was still visible and in my infinite wisdom I thought I could jab surgical steel studs through the scars and repierce them.

Chicken Hawk asked me if I used potatoes…um Chicken Hawk – I don’t think potatoes are sharp enough. I used the original studs from weeks before and bought new ones for my perfectly healed first holes. In my infinite wisdom, I purchased two packs of eyebrow surgical steel ball closure rings. I want something semi-perminent so I don’t need to worry about swimming and losing jewelry.

These ball closure rings are a pain in the Shatner to put in. I had the entire entourage helping me. When it was all said and done, we had used needle nose pliers with me laying on the bed with a ton of people twisting the crap out of my sore ear (I had already pierce the second hole – painful? Very – but I gave birth to 2 kids prior and had my gallbladder removed and walked for 7km on a broken foot  so it wasn’t that bad…) I saved myself $80 bucks and earned a TON of compliments from 4 year old girls who told me I look pretty. One even patted my tummy and said my tummy is smaller! I love my girls!! They are always ready with a complement!

Suffice it to say – I will not be removing my earings for quite sometime. If I do it will be for a very good reason…like these:

One Year Later…

Doesn’t even feel like I live on the same planet…What a difference a year can make in all things.

I have one Offspring heartbroken about tomorrow and the other baking cookies for their valentine.  I was told on the weekend that my Valentine is taking me to Cats! All of this for an over rated holiday in the middle of winter.

Back in the OLDEN DAYS called the 1970′s, Valentines were paper with the occasional box of chocolate or flower given out. I had a boyfriend who looked at flowers as a waste of money, so he would give me a plant. I would kill it out of spite. I wouldnt even get a card from him. Then there was the year he had his wisdom teeth removed on Valentines Day…ya I became jaded. He did want to ever give me a box of chocolates, but he did give me an exercise bike. I know…he was a keeper – she said dripping in sarcasm.

I feel for one Offspring and am excited for the other, it made me a little nostalgic for the cards we would make as kids and give out to our pals. I made a card for everyone…sadly I never received a lot in return. That was saved for Leslie, the blonde Goddess of the third grade. Oh if Brad had only noticed me then… Who am I kidding. Short Italian kid who is likely still only up to my knees… but he was cute in a Marty McFly kind of way.

As I was searching for Valentine Cards to make to give to my Valentine, I stumbled up on vintage cards and had a real laugh. Corny with a capital C! That is what makes them so amazing! I am SURE you will find the perfect sentiment for your Valentine!

Valentines for those Domestic Types

Give Your Valentine a Politically Incorrect Card!

Seriously? A Hanging is romantic?

I Hope I win the Hobo!

Nothing Says I Love You more than a good killing

Domestic Abuse Valentine

Sure ya did….”rash” looks like bruises to me!

The Classic Double Entendre Valentine

I am leaving you with the ever Creepy Valentine – from me to you

Because really, who are we kidding, Valentines Day is all about the creepy stalker if you don’t get what you want from who you want it from. I know you will be creeping facebook and twitter to see where your valentine is.

Please be my Valentine…or at the very least Don’t be my Valentine and see if I care.

Happy Valentines Day!

1.2.3. 4. 5.

6.

7.

8.

9.

10.

11.

And the bonus laugh….

The Entourage is going back to Europe.

Let the planning begin!

]]> http://ragrobyn.wordpress.com/2012/02/08/wordless-wednesday/feed/ 6 ragrobyn Which way to the Schnitzel place? http://ragrobyn.wordpress.com/2012/02/07/random-momness/ http://ragrobyn.wordpress.com/2012/02/07/random-momness/#comments Wed, 08 Feb 2012 04:33:49 +0000 The Edmonton Tourist http://ragrobyn.wordpress.com/?p=2869 ]]> Today has been quite the random nonsensical day! The odd quirky things that happen to me as odd thoughts run through my head are to obscure to keep to myself. Therefore I must share.

1. String Mittens! How random is that? I grew up with mitts hanging from my sleeves because I was notorious for loosing them. I often had a single mitt or two right mitts. In fact, I currently have 2 left red Canada Olympic mitts in my cubby at the back door. I work with preschoolers – 32 of them actually. Only 2 use string mitts. One child wears them because I am sure her mom grew up with them here in Edmonton. They just make good sense for young ones. They ALWAYS know the mitts are hanging from the sleeve for the moment of need. The other child, is what I lovingly refer to as “an out of towner”. That means they are born some place hot – that means anywhere that isn’t spelled C A N A D A. Only this child wears the string on the OUTSIDE of her jacket. Odd… but common. I attempted to sho the child how to wear the mitts. I was told in no uncertain terms I was WRONG. Fine… But tell me, what is the purpose of the string then? For that random moment when you need a skipping rope? Strangling your brother? Tripping up your feet so when you fall your hands are strapped to your sides and can’t save you? Please tell me! I am now curious. For all you Out of Towners and Locals If you are looking for gorgeous mitts and sweaters and things, check out my favorite knitter Margaret at Knit Pickers. I love her Barn Sweater Touque and Scarf – I have been meaning to order a pair and will get on that soon. I’m sure she will add an idiot string if I ask her too!!
2. I mother everyone. Random…but true. I have a student who accidentally calls me “Mum” hmmmm maybe I need to look at how I am treating him a little more closely. Sure I have favorites, but not all my favorites call me mum. THEN, after my son’s curling match today, I gave his teammate a lift. The manboy who is over 6 feet but has the face of a 12 year old was going to take the bus home. Yikes. It was dark, it is not the nicest of neighbourhoods, I would be up worrying about him all night, so I gave him a ride. He was very gracious and appreciative, his mom taught him excellent manners! (there is nothing I despise more, than giving some kid a lift and they never even say thank you! TEACH YOUR CHILDREN MANNERS PLEASE). Then there is another manboy friend of my son. He posted on facebook that he finally understood his math after hours of study. I wanted to post a long and encouraging comment…but high school guys don’t want a dodgy old mom commenting, so I liked…I probably shouldn’t have even liked – but I LOVE this manboy! I would adopt him if he needed me too. Speaking adopting…never leave your neglected child within arms reach of me. I will mom them and them try to keep them. Some people love cats, I like to mom kids.
3. I am an awesome mom to strangers but a sucky mom to my own… I went to the curling rink to watch my son’s first match of the season. I sat for 5 minutes then fell asleep for 30. Random… Clearly I am tired. Well why not? I have been dreaming of beetles crawling in my hair and on the back of my neck so I wake up scratching my head. Not enough sleep… RAID!
4. I have been doing a bit of Character Development for a pal of mine over at Back of the Packer It has been DECADES since I have developed original cartoon characters. I must say, it has been so fun! I have been doing this in support of his drive for 12 marathons in a year. Yes that is a random goal, yes my support of him is odd and random – but that is the type of friend I am – unexpectedly random. He is raising money for Make-A-Wish foundation. Since I love to mom kids, I love this charity too. I know children who have been on the receiving end of wishes and I cannot tell you how wonderful it was to see their joy! It does a mom’s heart good. Support kids charities!!!
5. I read ABC Head Start’s Blog today entitled ‘Do you speak Head Start?” Why yes I do! I know…that is random. It is like knowing a second language filled with hidden meaning. Don’t know what I am talking about? Head over to her blog, its great…and a bit random.

So there are some of the random things that happen to me today. My favorite was a random story a student told me this morning, keep in mind he is 4:

The was an ocean and a forest and a knight and a princess and a boy who was a big boy and a boat and it roweded it. The Forrest and the Ocean and the Knight and the Princess and the big boy and a boat and the moon and the knight….

I lost interest at that point… It takes a lot to keep my mind in random mode.

Image via Wikipedia

I don’t speak Spanish, I am afraid of mice, BUT I might be related to Speedy Gonzales. I wish…

Last May I started training for the Edmonton Intact Marathon in August 2011. I completed that goal with less than stellar results, but I COMPLETED it. I started training for the Calgary Scotia Bank Marathon May 27th, 2012 because I have something to build on. My pace last May was roughly 14min/km. ZOINKS! Today was my 2 week of training. I started at 10min/km which thrilled me. I could look at how far I have come. Today it was 8.66min/km. Unreal, that isn’t even running. I thought I had slowed my pace because I wasn’t even puffing.

How did I do this? Well I shall tell you me secret….

I bought running swag

Shocking, I know! It has nothing to do with being hydrated, or eating right or getting enough sleep because I am doing NONE of that! In fact, that makes me laugh!  HA! <——–  see? Well, maybe I am unconsciously and maybe it has become habit now. Maybe now I realize food is fuel not therapy, but I am not paying much attention to that. I owe all my success to Running Swag.

Let me tell you how it came about so YOU can have success too!

1. First of all, I run walk on an indoor track. 9 laps=1km no I don’t get dizzy but I do go into a hypnotic trance. I has spending all my time and energy counting stupid laps.  Today I bought a Tally Counter. It isn’t as awesome as it sounds because it is ginormous. But it works and that is enough for me! I tested it out on 3km today. I forgot to click it twice and remembered when I got to the window rather than the start/finish line of the oval. That’s okay, it’s not like it was for a timed lap or anything, it is just keeping track of how many times I pass around.
2. Did you know that running socks are special? I didn’t either until I started with this shenanigans. They are designed to reduce wick moisture away to prevent blisters. As well as other stuff that i don’t care about. I don’t want blisters OR burning feet…. that isn’t fun because that is ALL you can think about. Well, I had these fabulous CoolMax socks from the RunningRoom. There was a Left sock and a Right sock – I kid you not. Who knew? The why of it has something to do with the arch support padding yadadadad… I wasn’t listening when they told me. I just didn’t want blisters. Those socks from last year (all 3 pairs) now are only good for pedicures (yes there are holes in the toes). So I pulled out the socks I got in my swag bag from the marathon. I ran crawled for Kids Sport and these were a thank you from that organization. Well, let me tell you something. THESE SOCKS KICK ASPHAULT! I need to find more and pronto! So I lied, I can speak un poco de español. Yes there is a Left and a Right but this is to show off the ugliness of the Black, Yellow and White to it’s full potential…. I know, I know…you are jealous, I can tell.
3. I don’t wear shorts….you’re welcome. But walking in jeans is just not okay. I was working out in my yoga pants but those just weren’t cutting it. I was in Winners one day noticing I could shop in regular ladies wear – I KNOW! YAY ME! I found a pair of Nike DriFit pants that fit. Again… I KNOW! I TOO AM EXCITED! I now am thinking about getting capris of the Dri-Fit nature and wearing girl shirts. My tech shirts are mens and it just doesn’t fit right in the girl area…. I am sure once I get these items I will be moving EVEN FASTER!
4. The other bit of swag I now use is a glass water bottle. Yes it is heavy, but at the track I don’t have to carry it. I hate the taste of plastic water and I am eco concious…or try to be. I am trying to make my body use to the fact that I can go at least 3km without water. THEN drink. Why? I don’t want to carry a a water belt for the race. We shall see. I have heard horror stories about water stations running out of water…that’s not good. OR worse – cups. I will think about it. Calgary is rated one of the top 12 races in North America (of course when you are in the top 12, you are likely 12th).
5. I have a broken window on my iphone. The screen isn’t cracked but there is a largish piece missing out of the top right hand corner. I use it to listen to music which makes me fast! In the olden days (last year) I used the girl cleavage to hold the phone…if youve got ‘em use ‘em! The sweat moisture will kill the phone, so I bought an armband. I am SURE this is the reason for my fastness.

There is my swag list that promises lightening speed! Here is my want list so I can break some course records.

1. I currently have super ugly hot pink and black Nike air. I love them. Sadly they are over loved and only have a few more miles left on them. I am happy to announce this years style is not hot pink! it is purple…hmmm not much better, but it is better. I know for a FACT new shoes help me walk faster. It is like having springs on your feet.
2. I want a Nike+ Fuelband…. I don’t really know all the stuff it does but it is a gadget and I am all about gadgets! Besides, it might make me FASTER!
3. iPhone 4GS I have a 3G no S There are NO LONGER RUNNING APPS THAT WORK with this old phone. I have do things the old fashion way…look at the clock.
4. A headband.   HA! <————– see I laughed again. There is no way I would wear a head band. Although at camp I often sported a bandana on my head due to bed-head and bad hair. However, now that I have flair and panache HA! <————- again I laugh… I think I should sport an Axl Rose-esq head band – NOT Mike Reno type if you are wondering.

I am pretty sure these items will make me SUPER FAST. Yes it will…quit arguing with me.

Related articles

• Protect Your Feet From Blisters (everydayhealth.com)
• Would You Wear These Pedicure Socks? (bellasugar.com)

Here is the situation, and your honest and objective opinion is welcome. GeneticOffspring has received a juicy part in the High School Play. He is about to be 16 ( Holy Mother Mary and Joseph!) and is in grade 10 at a Catholic academic high school. The part was meant for a grade 12 student, but the teacher/director  thinks that G.O. is mature enough and serious enough to portray this part with the require respect and emotion. The character is a gay student who is being emotionally abused. G.O. was told to go home and discuss this with his parents. The part can be rewritten so the gay aspect of the character is removed. The fact that the character is gay is not primary to the story line, but it adds an important element.

G.O. then says, So – what do you think? Hmmm What do I think, well that is EASY. As an adult I think it is a challenging role that will add an empathetic element. I think G.O. would be brilliant. I think he should decide if he wants to do it.

As the Mommy? ugggg I don’t want him doing it. Why? I am concerned about ramifications for the next 2 and a half years left at that school. I am concerned some emotionally immature goon would start bullying or teasing in a way that is NOT appropriate. I also think I am projecting my school experience onto him. The Mommy in me is slightly scared for my boy. The Mommy told G.O. she wanted to talk to the teacher.

I went to pick up G.O. after play practice today and he came sauntering out with his drama teacher. It is winter, and the guy comes out in a short sleeve button down shirt and sneakers. I offered to go inside and the teacher said, no it’s nice out. I had questions.

1 – is there a matinée that is open to the whole school to see?

2- does the teacher expect the same ramifications as I do?

3 – what if I say no?

4 – What if I kidnap my son and keep him in a cage? What does G.O think will happen with his peers?

The Drama Teacher said he doesn’t think forcing students without the maturity to deal with the content should have to go to a matinée at the school. If students want to see the play, they will buy tickets and come in the evening. This was a HUGE relief for me! The arts community look at subject matter differently then people who are not interested in the arts. The Drama Teacher was also concerned about the possible ramifications, but was quick to say that his group (drama and improve) were extremely tolerant and supportive. This came as no surprise to me, I understand how the arts community works and what type of person is attracted to this group.

If I say NO – then the part would be rewritten and its no big deal. Then I asked G.O. what he thought. He isn’t sure, and is quite torn. His first reaction is “how would his peers in the gay community react?” He doesn’t want to offend them. He hadn’t really thought about peers who may bully him. He didn’t think this was the big issue.

Now THAT is interesting to me. This made me so proud of my boy. He is concerned he may offend a demographic that he is about to portray. He doesn’t see large, meaty overgrown boys with narrow attitudes as a problem. He deals with them with humor. He needed to in gym class and now they are friendly because G.O. is funny. Self depreciating humor helps apparently.

The drive home from school yielded conversation about choices. I said to him, what do you want to do about this? He said, I am not sure. Then I replied, what if I said no. His response was the one I expected – I would be furious! There’s my guy! I raised an independent thinker who is capable of making smart choices for himself. I have given him all the possible scenarios I could think of, and some from my friends who think the answer should ABSOLUTELY NOT. I have shared thoughts of friends who think it is a great idea. Then I said I see it in two lights. The Adult in me says DO IT, the Mommy says NO WAY! He asked from what point of view am I going to judge this situation.

Crap.

I replied with, I am confident enough in your abilities to make the right decision for you. His dad and I did all we could do to provide him with values that would help him make the right choice. It is important for me to have an independent thinker for a son. He is capable. This is where the mommy shuts her mouth and trusts in her son. Therefore the adult must be supportive of what ever decision he makes.

Knowing him the way I do, he will discuss this with his friends and then choose to do the part. I am sure his mind is already made up. I am pretty proud of my boy the man my boy is  becoming.

What would YOU do?