Teenage Boy Meets Magical Fairy Princess

A Magical Fairy Princess

She walked out of the school’s front door hand in hand with my son. I looked closely as they approached me and interestingly enough, she wasn’t flying, on the contrary, her feet were firmly on the ground. I offered to give her a ride, not only to get to know the girl who had enamored my boy so much that he wasn’t embarrassed to hold her hand in front of me, but also to look for signs to confirm my suspicions about who she REALLY was. Through the review mirror, I, of course, sized her up. She portrayed herself as the typical teenage girl. Well… not quite typical. Above average I’d say (but I may be biased!). Her strawberry blond long hair was perfectly coifed, curled under at the shoulders. However that lovely style prevented me from finding out whether or not she had pointed ears. She wore an impeccable red wool coat, double breasted. The fitted nature of it seemed to make it impossible that she had tucked her wings under it, but they could have been small or removable. Her boots were polished and high and quite pointed, therefore a positive sign that she was what I assumed. She sat demurely while we small talked. “What color prom dress are you thinking about?” “How is school?” She answered politely and intelligently. I watched closely as she moved and gestured waiting for pixie dust to suddenly cascade from her fingers. It never happened, but she may have been able to control her output of the sparkly stuff. As she exited the car she thanked me for the ride and sweetly said goodbye to my son. She grabbed her backpack and I noticed that it was big enough to hold a very tall and thin wand. Then she walked gracefully up  to her door, the picture of a 16 year old girl. But she didn’t fool me. NUH UH! NO WAY. No matter how hard she tried to hide who she really was she would never pull the wool over my eyes. I knew better! This was no ordinary adolescent girl. This was a fairy princess, a fairy princess who possessed strong magical powers. And she has cast quite a spell (or several spells) on my eldest child.

Let me give you an example. For years, we have been trying to get Aidan to wake up with an alarm. We bought alarms for people who were hard of hearing, alarms that connected to the mattress and gave the sleeper a jolt when it went off, alarms that flew around the room until you turned it off, even an alarm that was a popping jigsaw puzzle that wouldn’t go off until you found and replaced the pieces on the top of the unit. Nothing, not one single alarm worked. He slept right through them, right through the buzzing, jolting, flying, popping, annoying sounds of each and every one. We had given up finding a clock that worked and resigned ourselves that part of our morning routine would be to schlep ourselves downstairs to the teen palace and pound on the locked door over and over until we heard the tell tale teenage grunt that meant the hibernating bear was awake. (Even with the grunt, sometimes we’d have to return just to pound again because the bear apparently wanted more sleep.) But then the magic fairy princess came along. I am not sure you know this but it seems that these magic princesses need a ride home from school which therefore means that the sleep-like-the-dead 17 year old has to get up early to drive ME to work first so that the car is available for him to use after school as her chariot. Lo and behold, using a plain ol’ alarm, nothing fancy, just digital numbers and buttons at the top, that “I-can-sleep-through-a-very-large-forest-fire” adolescent has been up and at ’em, chipper and peppy WAY before my toe even hits the shower. “Come on mom. You’ve gotta move faster.” Come on? And so I ask you, what other explanation is there for the miracle cure of Aidan’s failing ears and teen deep sleep disorder? Magic!

Okay. How about this one? Read the rest of this entry »

Prom Night: Mind Your Own Business, Mom!

Headline of the Day:  World Class Spy Fails to Get the Goods

I wish I was James Bond equipped with all that spy gear.  A Vespa.  A tux.  A suave opening line, “Fisher… Logan Fisher.”  A phone in the sole of my shoe—oh wait, isn’t that Maxwell Smart?  Anyhoo… Being a spy is an essential occupation for a mother of a teenage boy.  Isn’t about time Steve Jobs invents an App for his iPhone that scans the deepest dark parts of the male adolescent brain and mines for the secrets that nosy moms need to know.  I’d pay ANY price for THAT App!

What has brought this on you ask?  Prom.  P-R-O-M.  It’s December.  The big month.  The month where teenage boys all over the country despite their pimples or bed head, despite the cracks in their still developing voices and their sudden interest in the Victoria’s Secret commercials, take a shaky uncertain dip into the dating pool and ask a girl… a real girl… to go to the prom.

So, dear readers, you must have questions.  Yes.  Lots of questions.  Probably some of you are asking yourself right now, “I wonder who Aidan is going with?”  Some of you are probably asking, “I wonder if Aidan has asked anyone yet.”  Even some others may be wondering, “Will Aidan even WANT to go to the prom.”  And these are all WONDERFUL questions.

WONDERFUL.  You’d think that wonderful questions would have equally wonderful answers.  Sadly, that-just-isn’t-the-case.

Aidan is a locked vault—a locked vault with a lost key.  (If anyone finds said key… there will be a hefty reward if it gets returned to me!)  I ask daily (much to his extreme frustration) about his plans or desire to go to the prom.  And every day it is the same thing… “None of your business mom.”  I’ve tried to reason with him claiming that if he’d just let me in on his thoughts about prom like who, where, when he’d ask, color of the dress, will he want a matching cummerbund… you know… the standard prom info, I’d stop asking.  I even promised that if he just would throw me a small bone, I stop talking about the prom all together.  We both paused and then chuckled nervously, knowing full well that that promise could never, would never stop me from trying to talk with my son about the important moments in his life. I am what he calls the nosiest, most annoying mother in the world.  And… well perhaps I am.  Hey, but tenacity is a good quality, right??

Last night I had a brain storm.  A full proof way (I thought) to get him to open up and tell me his prom plans, including his possible, if not already arranged date.  Bribery.  OH!  And food. Food always sweetens the deal. We went to his favorite restaurant.  I let him order whatever.  (“Aidan, you must be STARVING!  Go ahead and order WHATEVER you want.”) At the end of his meal, happily satisfied with a greasy burger and fries sitting in his gullet, I made my move.

“Aidan, your step-father and I were talking and we’d love to get you a limousine to take you to the prom.  I was even thinking that I could ask my friend to let you borrow her Spider convertible if you’d like.  Every boy should have a fancy ride to pick up his prom date.”

“Really?” he responded excitedly.  Butterflies instantly started fluttering in my stomach.  I had him!  YES!  “Remain calm.” I told myself.  Swallowing the glee that was pushing at my throat I said, “Yes.  Really.”

“Ummm.  I think I’d like to take the Spider.   Do you really think she’d let us borrow that hot car?”

“All we can do is ask.”  I said trying to hide my pleasure.  “If she says no, you can still pick out a limo that you’d like.  If you take a limo then you can have other couples go with you.  Usually girls like to travel in packs.  Who are the girls that are friends with your prom date?”   Victory was almost mine.  I was feeling smug, smart and full of confidence.  Finally… score one for mom.

“Mind your own business mom.  But nice try.”

Curses!  Foiled again!  Does anybody know Steve Jobs?


ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Logan Fisher

Logan has lived in Glens Falls, NY all her life. By day, she is an educator with 20 years experience, a mom to Aidan and Gannan, her two teenage boys, a new mommy to a beautiful daughter, Ila, and wife to the love of her life, Jeffrey. By night, weekends and any spare time she can find, Logan writes. She loves memoir and also adores writing essays about the challenges of parenthood. This year she started a parenting blog called A Muddled Mother, an honest place where mothers aren’t afraid to speak of the complications and difficulties that we all inevitably experience. Logan has been published in various children’s and parenting magazines including Today’s Motherhood, Eye on Education, Faces, and Appleseed.

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