I don’t mind at all that my eight-year-old son has a bit of an obsession with Blake Lewis. We watched American Idol together this past season, and we agreed together that Blake, in addition to being utterly cool, seems like a genuinely good and honorable guy.
I didn’t mind at all that, on the last day of school, Stephen spiked up his hair like Blake’s, and he put together a grungy, t-shirt look. I actually thought he looked pretty cute.
I haven’t minded Stephen’s new Blake-inspired fascination with beat-boxing. We’ve had a good time looking up examples together on YouTube, and listening to Stephen teach himself this ever-so-useful (!) life skill has been fun. Noisy, but fun.
No, I haven’t minded any of it. I’ve been the super-cool mom about this whole thing. Until I heard him beat-boxing "Come Thou Fount Of Every Blessing" in church last week.
Really, a mom’s got to draw the line somewhere.