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The American returned to his native country yesterday. It was a cloudy day that he began by loudly singing the Star Spangled Banner in the bath. Then he put on his suit complete with American flag pin, and we headed to the airport. In the car he talked about the beauty of his homeland and sang a few patriot songs.
He’s staying there with his mother to complete the final years of teenagehood. Here are some pictures I took at the airport.
My husband who is a professional musician and really should have promotional photograph thing taken care of by now needed a picture for a gig he’s doing next month. So we hung a sheet up in the living room and started taking pictures. Of course, we couldn’t let him be the star of the show. We had to get in on the act too.
My stepson has been having problems reading at school. He’s been complaining of headaches and eye strain, so it was time to take him to the eye doctor. Of course, he needed glasses. Jealous of all the glasses wearing going on in the family, my husband got his eyes checked too. We all knew that my husband needed glasses. He used to have some that he never wore. When we moved we found them under the computer desk with the lenses so scratched no one would ever be able to see out of them. So, he threw them away.
We all have very different approaches to wearing glasses.
Wearing glasses is old hat for me. I’ve done it since I was in 4th grade. My lenses are constantly smeared and smudged and I just ignore it. I’ve learned to see around the smudges. I only clean my glasses about once a week. I figure why even bother, they just get smudged again in a few minutes.
Since my husband’s gotten his new glasses, he spends more time looking at himself in the mirror saying things like, “I really look good in glasses.” He keeps his glasses very clean. He’s always cleaning them. If even the tiniest smudge appears on them, he cleans it off immediately. “How can you see out of those things,” he often says to me while closely examining my glasses.
My stepson’s method for dealing with his glasses is the most unusual. When he does wear them–which is almost never–he puts them up to his eyes while holding the arms. He rarely ever lets them rest on his face. Instead, he holds them up off of his nose takes a quick look at something then quickly removes them, returns them to their case and shoves the case in his pocket. He treats them like some kind of disease.
The reason he was having problems reading is because his bad vision is straining his eyes. If he wore his glasses all the time, he wouldn’t have this problem reading, but of course he won’t wear them. Instead, he’s gotten some reading glasses somehow, from somewhere–the kind of reading glasses old people buy from the drugstore. He insists on wearing those to read because his eyes are bothering him. His eyes wouldn’t bother him if he wore his glasses, but you can’t tell him anything.
Now that we’re all bespectacled we can go out together as one big, happy nerdy chic family. Some of us are nerdier than others. And some of us are chicer than others. But we can still all get along.
Yesterday was my stepson’s 16th birthday (sweet 16) so we went into London to celebrate. After getting him loaded on tequila and buying him a hooker, we took him to London Eye. When it was built in 1999, it was the world’s tallest Ferris wheel. Since then the Chinese and Singaporeans have built Ferris wheels that are larger. (Hey, leave it to me to keep informed in Ferris wheel trivia.) It’s not the largest anymore, but I’m sure it’s the most expensive. It cost £17.50 per person.
Even though the London Eye is only the third largest Ferris wheel in the world and undoubtedly the most expensive the masses of camera toting, backpack wearing tourists flock to it even in the middle of the day on a Thursday. Don’t these people have jobs.
We stood in that line for more than 45 minutes. The ride–I should say flight because that’s how they refer to it in the brochure–on the Ferris wheel lasted maybe 20 minutes. My stepson was happy with the ride flight though. That’s what was important. Here are some pictures he took.
He doesn’t look very happy in this picture, but I swear he was.
My stepson grew up in Florida, but has managed to maintain an English accent his entire life–until now. Recently, something quite strange has occurred. Now that he lives in England and has very limited contact with Americans his accent is rapidly becoming more American.
He’s gone in the direction of the ultra patriot. Singing the national anthem and self-consciously pronouncing his r’s and changing double t’s in the middle of words to d’s.
He spent the summer in Florida with his mother. When we picked him up at the airport his American accent was full on.
“Why are you talking like that?” my husband asked.
“Like what?” my stepson replied.
“With that fake accent.”
“I’ve been back home so long that my accent just changed.” (He always refers to the States as back home.) He’d been “back home” for a whole 6 weeks.
My husband furrowed his brow. “Accents don’t change that much that quickly. ”
The American accent ebbs at times, but still remains–comically so. The other day my stepson was talking to one of our Florida friends on Skype and the friend said, “Why’s your accent sound even more American now that you don’t live here?”
Anyway, here’s a picture of my truly American stepson, who is proud to be an American because at least he knows he’s free.
This is what I often hear coming from my stepsons bedroom.
I’m starting to think he has a miniature Chinese village. When he closes the door he pulls them out from under the bed and they sing and dance for him.
There is an English version of the song too. This is even better than the original. I love the singing and the awkward way the words are forced to fit into melody.
Here’s a song too. Just for the fun of it.
