I Know It Sounds Crazy

“Mom, I know it sounds crazy, but just listen,” Jack said.

“I’m listening, but…”, said Mona.

“No ‘buts’, Mom, not before you’ve even heard what I’m going to say.”

“All right,” Mona sighed.  She knew this was going to be another one of those interminable quote discussions unquote with Jack that would end with her agreeing to some compromise of what he was going to suggest.  It had happened that way so many times that Mona sometimes wondered if Jack didn’t actually plan his quote unquote discussions so that they would turn out just that way.  Even if he was only fourteen, he had always seemed to be able to intuit whatever vulnerability his mother had and to use it to his advantage. “Go ahead,” Mona said.  “I’m listening.”

“See, Brad and me”

“Brad and I”

“Yeah, Brad and I were talking and we were thinking that it would be really fine if we were to go to Mardi Gras this year.”

“Mardi Gras in New Orleans?”

“Well, ye-ah.”   Mona hated that tone of voice that wasn’t quite a sneer, but didn’t seem very respectful either.

“Jack, how do you think that 1) you and Brad would even GET to New Orleans and 2) where you would stay and 3) how you would pay for all of this, not to mention that you are underage and can’t get into any of the clubs anyway.”

“Mom, we don’t have to go into any clubs to enjoy Mardi Gras, even if Brad is almost 18 and could probably get in.  All the action is in the streets and on the balconies and in the parks.  Most of Mardi Gras is being at the parades and catching the beads they throw off the floats.”

Mona noticed that Jack had skipped over the need for transportation and money and settled right on the fun part.  Typical.  Would this child, almost a young man, EVER grow up? Not at this rate.  Not with she and his Dad caving to almost everything he wanted.  Would it have been easier to be firm if she hadn’t worked?  Had been home all the time?  

“Jack, you aren’t going to be going to Mardi Gras this year.  Or next year.  Maybe when you’re old enough AND when you can pay your own way.”

“Mo-ohm,” Jack’s voice was pleading.  “All the guys are going this year.  We’ll have a big crowd.  It’ll be safe, I promise.”

“Jack, this is beginning to sound like you and your friends have already concocted some wild plan and now you’re all trying to get your parents to go along.”

“It’s not like that at all, Mom.  Why are you always so suspicious?  It’s not like I get into lots of trouble.”

It depends on your definition of “trouble”, Mona thought as she cast about for another tack to take with Jack.

“What does your Dad think about this big idea?” Mona asked.

“I haven’t talked to him yet, but I know he’ll want us to go.  Dad did a lot of worse things when he was young.”

So he did, Mona thought to herself, and why he thought it was a good idea to brag about those things in front of an impressionable kid, I’ll never know. “Well, see what your Dad has to say, but I still say there’s no way a 14 year old boy is going to go with a gang of friends to Mardi Gras in New Orleans. Not this year.” 

“Mom, don’t say ‘no’.  Just think about it.  Brad has it all planned. I’ll talk to Dad but I know what he’ll say.  He’ll say, ‘what did your Mother say?’ That’s what he always says.”

“Well, tell him I said ‘no way’”

“Oh, Mom, I can’t tell him that.  It would prejudge him.”

“You mean prejudice him.”

“Whatever.”

Mona sighed and began to think to herself about the logistics of getting to New Orleans, staying in New Orleans, and how much it would cost—cost in money and in worry.  The worry part was bigger than the money part.  Could she volunteer to chaperone?  Could she insist that another parent chaperone?  It might sound crazy, but maybe a chaperone was the answer.

“Jack,” she called.  “Come here a minute.  I have an idea.”