I Need An Intervention

Actually, a personal hero of mine (Eminem) said that in a famous song that Franco and I may or may not enjoy hearing at full blast in the car on repeat. It may or not be the edited version. (Hashtag: SorryNotSorry.)

Every time I take a picture or video of Franco, I think about how cute he is, and how glad I am for this Apple technology to document his funny little spurts of genius, and, most importantly,  all the future fluff pieces in which said picture or video may be used. Swimming solo across the pool at three years old?  He is absolutely the future Michael Phelps and I am the future Debbie. So cute. Singing a solo at theater school? He is absolutely the future Lin Manuel Miranda and I am the future rich mom of Lin Manuel Miranda, and I am not throwin' away my shot. This?

Ummm...well, you never know. He looks like, okay, he has a vision here and what I think of it is unimportant anyhow. He steps to the beat of his own...pink parasol and necktie. (Hashtag: NoJudgment.)

Sometimes, I just take the footage and silently hope it does not end up on whatever is the future incarnation of Intervention. There could be varied reasons for this. For one, I watch, and have watched, an inordinate number of Interventions. I mean, a LOT. Sometimes, I like to watch it while drinking a ton of wine. (Hashtag: ShutUpAndMindYourOwnBusiness.) In fairness, it is not the only thing I enjoy watching while also drinking a ton of wine, so I don't discriminate.

For another, Franco just loves to role play being a teenager. As a teenager in Franco's world, you can drink beer, play kissy-face with girls at parties, and get "sloppy drunk" on "vodkwa" which you hold by the neck of the bottle while taking handfuls of pills. (Hashtag: TooManyEpisodesOfNashville.) He sure is creative, and apparently pays attention to his surroundings, so I give him credit for that.

Furthermore, I do correct him by asking, "Who gets sloppy drunk around you?" And he can't say because it doesn't happen, and this is why we don't need preschool and all those fancy worksheets because the real world can be its own teacher. Life lessons one-on-one. (Hashtag:ThankYouAndYouAreWelcome.)

But, really. Maybe I need an intervention from my own catastrophic brain sometimes. Seriously. The kid is four years old. Yeah, he might end up a train wreck. But, so far, he seems to be able to navigate the world fairly well, and I give him enough rein to do so within reason. (Hashtag: CrunchyNotThatCrunchy.)

At home, he tells me he'll "kick his dad's ass" and yells that when the Penguins lose a game, it's "bullshit" and lets me know that he knows that "son of a bitch" is not nice to say out loud. Out in public, he asks politely for the dessert menu and personally sends his regards to the chef for the tasty wedding soup. (Hashtag: TrueStory.)

So, probably, there is nothing to worry about. We are in the clear. Or we're not. Either way, he is his own little guy. And while I don't take that many photos or videos, due to my love of just living in the world and enjoying my life as it happens, I do have enough to contribute to whatever fluff pieces Franco's future may hold.

And that is the way I personally choose to do it. He's not perfect. I'm not perfect. He's just my only son, and I'm his only mom, and I know he's mine by the eccentric workings of his mind, and the intricate way that we get each other. One time, we were telling stories, and his was, "My mom and I just do the greatest things together."

Of course, I don't have footage of that. (Hashtag: SeeAbove.) But it's okay because I was there and I witnessed it. Sure, he's only four years old. Things will change and, as Franco will likely soon tell me, "shit will hit the fan."

But for now, here we are. Intervention or no, I'm doing my best and so far, it is working. And that is...

Hashtag:GoodEnoughForMe.