In Complete Cahoots

I love those misleading, mostly manicured, moments that reveal deep disapproval from pompous and petty-principled, people when my beloved boy and I are in, somewhat conniving, cahoots.

My most memorable moments all began when he was trying to wilfully wheedle some trashy teddy out of me, which he definitely didn’t need as his colorful collection was already alarmingly abundant.

But he had wanton wheedling down to a fine art - first down on one grazed and knobbly knee, with pathetic puppy dog eyes looking up at me in deep devotion, then he’d place his hands together in prayer, pleading with me, closely followed by some completely calculated, and very corny compliments.

“Mom, you’re so beautiful.” A frivolous flutter of his eyelashes. “Oh, Mom, I love you so much.” A calculated killer kiss blown in my direction. “Mom, you’re amazing!”

Knowing his tenacious tactics, I’d sullenly scoffed and replied, rather ruthlessly, “Yeah and you’re a creep!” And then confidently continued, “I know exactly what you’re doing you troublesome toad, and you’re not going to get around me that easily!” And we’d both laughed loudly.

But then he suddenly started saying, totally out of the blue, apropos of nothing at all - and not because he wanted some special something. “Mom, you’re amazing!”  

If I didn't hear, innocently ignored him or didn’t respond rapidly enough, he’d become increasingly insistent, “Mom! Mom! You’re supposed to reply!”

If I replied, rather resignedly, “You’re amazing too.” That was just not good enough, he wasn’t happy with that answer at all!

I’d have to say, “Yeah, and you’re a creep!” And he’d smile sweetly, honestly happy that I’d given him the awaited and acceptable answer.

A persistent problem occurred of course, when these endearing exchanges took place within earshot of other, more puritanical and presumptuous people, particularly women. The lethal looks they’d shoot me, silently shocked to the core at the condescending, cruel and malefic mother they beheld before them.

How could anyone be so unbelievably unfeeling towards their own cute and cherubic child, when he’d paid her such a kind and captivating compliment? The pompous pondered.

My favourite of all the condemning comments came when one wrinkled old woman whispered to her frumpy, rather freckled friend, “She should be reported! It’s downright disgusting! Despicable behaviour! I pity that poor, precious and praiseworthy child.”

Which only made us both laugh loudly and uncontrollably as we collectively clutched our splitting sides, gasping to regain our beleaguered breath.