Busted
Jen and I threw a big Valentine’s Day aftermath/Welcome to Seattle party for our friend Beth on Saturday night, and so, along with my duties as host behind the bar, I also invited interested parties downstairs to the basement vaporium to partake of plant-based intoxicants to go along with the distilled and fermented spirits folks were enjoying aboveground.
Not surprisingly, given the distractions attending that subterranean activity, as well as the fact that we were all fucking hilarious to each other after several minutes of indulging, none of us noticed the group of four or five children descending the stairs and then proclaiming loudly how stinky it was down here. Naturally, we responded that oh yes, the mold is really bad and so we’re lighting incense, but just as naturally, no 11 and 12 year-olds worth their inbred skepticism were buying that, as evidenced not only by their laughter and rolled eyes, but by the little note I found next to my device the next time I brought a group down to use it that read something like, “Only losers need weed to have a good time.”
We all had a good chuckle about that, reminding ourselves that none of actually need the stuff to have fun, but that it sure makes it easier to do so, ha-ha.
More seriously, of course, one can’t help but realize that some sort of conversation is in order, but my fellow parents, like me, agreed that we’d all postpone it until some other day when it becomes entirely unavoidable.
I’m looking forward to being honest with my kid at some point; I spent too much of my adolescence hiding my tastes in mind-altering from my parents to be willing to spend my dotage hiding them from my kid, but seventh grade still seems to me a bit young.
I believe that honesty is ultimately the best policy when it comes to this subject, but delaying the truth doesn’t hurt, either.
Not surprisingly, given the distractions attending that subterranean activity, as well as the fact that we were all fucking hilarious to each other after several minutes of indulging, none of us noticed the group of four or five children descending the stairs and then proclaiming loudly how stinky it was down here. Naturally, we responded that oh yes, the mold is really bad and so we’re lighting incense, but just as naturally, no 11 and 12 year-olds worth their inbred skepticism were buying that, as evidenced not only by their laughter and rolled eyes, but by the little note I found next to my device the next time I brought a group down to use it that read something like, “Only losers need weed to have a good time.”
We all had a good chuckle about that, reminding ourselves that none of actually need the stuff to have fun, but that it sure makes it easier to do so, ha-ha.
More seriously, of course, one can’t help but realize that some sort of conversation is in order, but my fellow parents, like me, agreed that we’d all postpone it until some other day when it becomes entirely unavoidable.
I’m looking forward to being honest with my kid at some point; I spent too much of my adolescence hiding my tastes in mind-altering from my parents to be willing to spend my dotage hiding them from my kid, but seventh grade still seems to me a bit young.
I believe that honesty is ultimately the best policy when it comes to this subject, but delaying the truth doesn’t hurt, either.
posted by Professor Dave at 7:25 PM
2 Comments:
That was a great party of love!
If you really think 7th grade is "a bit young" to be talking openly and honestly about drug use, then you either live in an extremely cloistered community (which I'm pretty sure Seattle is not) or you're not aware of what kids that age are learning and talking about in school (both in and out of the classroom). At my nephew's middle school, drug use is both rampant and taken for granted (by the kids, anyway, if not by the authorities).
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