It’s easier to see Morgan as the teenager he is when we get out into The World. Out there, for better or worse, he’s beyond my minute-by-minute influence. He can project whatever persona he wants. He can be Morgan. Not Susan’s son. I know the feeling. We’re all somebody’s somebody.
Yesterday I ventured out to my first Teen activity that Bill and Morgan have already attended. Laser tag and Chuck E. Cheese were too much visual stimulation for me. Besides, Bill told me I couldn’t go. “You’ll just come home in a bad mood.” He’s probably right. But a game day at the coordinator’s home seemed safe enough.
When I first got there, it was all women of all ages sitting on all the sofas. I wasn’t sure who were the mothers and who were the daughters. Morgan took off with the two other boys. I managed to cull the herd using M’s Creepy Crawlers maker. Most of the daughters were lured to the dining room and given my one-minute bug-baking lesson. The sulker stayed seated besides her mother. I know that feeling, too.
Every once in awhile, I’d go to the door of the den where the boys and a few of the older girls were playing PS2/3 videogames. I’d always pretend to “knock-knock-knock” and not violate their space. Once, to give Morgan the camera and remind him to take movies. The other time to ask the teens what they’d like to do in March. (The moms kept trying to come up with ideas among themselves. I announced I’d go ask. A seemingly simple solution.)
Each time, Morgan was one among many. Still a standout. But not a stand-alone. Once he was digitally recording a three-year-old Guitar Hero. The other time, he was cracking up his youthful audience as he repeatedly shot his faithful yet virtual steed. Always cracking wise. Trying to impress the girls…Where do you think he gets it?