The Natural
Oct. 10th, 2007 02:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mallorys_cameraThe Number One Son has got those Major Readjustment Blues.
Well, of course. I mean – how could he not? The transition from Plato’s Academy in the high desert to Silicon Valley office park with big, swinging endowment has got to be a tough one.
Plus the kid is just not very street smart. I had to practically get down on my knees and beg him not to leave his expensive bicycle unlocked (“Promise me…” “Mom, you’re over reacting!” “Promise me anyway…”) On Saturday night at one of the many orgiastic post-football game parties – mirable Dieu! Stanford beat USC! – he left his skateboard untended for 30 seconds so he could snap pictures of the big bonfire. He dropped the camera, shattering the little mechanism that periscopes the lens, and then when he went back for the skateboard, it was gone, baby. Gone.
When RTT and I showed up in Palo Alto Monday to take him out to lunch, he was still miserable.
Time for perky Mommy DiLucchio to roll out the decrepit Sage Advice Machine!
“Max, there is no fucking way a skateboard costs a hundred bucks!”
“No offence, Mom, but you’re not exactly an expert on the cost of sporting goods. That was a good skateboard.”
“That was the skateboard I gave you, right?” said Robin. “It cost twenty bucks at Big Five.”
“There! You see? And another thing! I don’t think you should drop that chemistry class! Because then you’ll always wonder about whether you could have done the biology major. I think you should just resign yourself to studying sixty hours a week –“
“Can we please just talk about something else?” hissed Max from between clenched teeth.
Honestly. What’s his problem? True, I don’t seem to be doing that great a job managing my own life, but I’d be excellent at managing his! At managing everyone’s as a matter of fact. Why won’t they let me?
The chemistry class is a major existential dilemma. Max is bright enough to do anything he wants – yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m his mother, of course I’d think that, but other people think that too. It does seem to me, though, that his natural talents lie in the realm of strategy and persuasion. I’ve never quite understood Max’s drive towards the hard sciences. His father is a scientist: I suppose that’s part of it. And I suppose – like his mother – he assumes that anything he’s effortlessly good at is not worth doing. It’s the bonus gift that comes with the Groucho Marx Club membership.
On the drive home, Robin asked, “So do you think Max should be a biology major?”
“I think Max should do whatever he wants,” I said. “And when you’re 18, I’ll think the same thing about you. Until then put that seatbelt back on right now and stop kicking those air vents unless you want me to kick you."
“I think it’s weird,” said Robin. “I mean, the thing about science is that it’s absolute, right? Something’s either true or it’s not true. You can’t argue about it. But the thing that Max does best in the world is argue.”
Robin says some surprising things sometimes.
In other news, the Little Store is on fall cycle which means weekends are frantic and weekdays are s-l-o-w. I’m almost done with the website redesign. And I have a cold that’s manifesting with a runny nose and general exhaustion. Not unpleasant. A bit like being stoned.
Well, of course. I mean – how could he not? The transition from Plato’s Academy in the high desert to Silicon Valley office park with big, swinging endowment has got to be a tough one.
Plus the kid is just not very street smart. I had to practically get down on my knees and beg him not to leave his expensive bicycle unlocked (“Promise me…” “Mom, you’re over reacting!” “Promise me anyway…”) On Saturday night at one of the many orgiastic post-football game parties – mirable Dieu! Stanford beat USC! – he left his skateboard untended for 30 seconds so he could snap pictures of the big bonfire. He dropped the camera, shattering the little mechanism that periscopes the lens, and then when he went back for the skateboard, it was gone, baby. Gone.
When RTT and I showed up in Palo Alto Monday to take him out to lunch, he was still miserable.Time for perky Mommy DiLucchio to roll out the decrepit Sage Advice Machine!
“Max, there is no fucking way a skateboard costs a hundred bucks!”
“No offence, Mom, but you’re not exactly an expert on the cost of sporting goods. That was a good skateboard.”
“That was the skateboard I gave you, right?” said Robin. “It cost twenty bucks at Big Five.”
“There! You see? And another thing! I don’t think you should drop that chemistry class! Because then you’ll always wonder about whether you could have done the biology major. I think you should just resign yourself to studying sixty hours a week –“
“Can we please just talk about something else?” hissed Max from between clenched teeth.
Honestly. What’s his problem? True, I don’t seem to be doing that great a job managing my own life, but I’d be excellent at managing his! At managing everyone’s as a matter of fact. Why won’t they let me?
The chemistry class is a major existential dilemma. Max is bright enough to do anything he wants – yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m his mother, of course I’d think that, but other people think that too. It does seem to me, though, that his natural talents lie in the realm of strategy and persuasion. I’ve never quite understood Max’s drive towards the hard sciences. His father is a scientist: I suppose that’s part of it. And I suppose – like his mother – he assumes that anything he’s effortlessly good at is not worth doing. It’s the bonus gift that comes with the Groucho Marx Club membership.
On the drive home, Robin asked, “So do you think Max should be a biology major?”“I think Max should do whatever he wants,” I said. “And when you’re 18, I’ll think the same thing about you. Until then put that seatbelt back on right now and stop kicking those air vents unless you want me to kick you."
“I think it’s weird,” said Robin. “I mean, the thing about science is that it’s absolute, right? Something’s either true or it’s not true. You can’t argue about it. But the thing that Max does best in the world is argue.”
Robin says some surprising things sometimes.
In other news, the Little Store is on fall cycle which means weekends are frantic and weekdays are s-l-o-w. I’m almost done with the website redesign. And I have a cold that’s manifesting with a runny nose and general exhaustion. Not unpleasant. A bit like being stoned.
