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Columnist

‘No. You cannot marry your mother.’

For the majority of the last 17 years, I have been adored by a young man. At the age of three he asked me to marry him, and when he was seven he told me that he would never want to get married because he couldn’t marry me.

No. You cannot marry your mother.

I will admit that I was relieved when Wyatt got over his little Oedipus complex, but at the same time it was a little teency bit of a sad thing to watch it go away. All the same, I’ve always been #1 for my gentle giant Wyatt. On Valentine’s Day this year, he bought me flowers and a mug. He’s a tender-hearted young man, and I’m lucky to be his mother. So much so that the idea of him dating a girl has been one that has quite honestly traumatized me a bit.

The first time a young lady asked Wyatt out, I ran to my room and cried. Yes, that’s a bit dramatic, I know. It was just so shocking to my system. However, I think what I worried about the most was someone hurting him. Yes, yes, yes. I know. It’s a part of growing up. So, I tossed myself onto my bed in a 1940s style flail – fitting of any screen queen, and woe is me’d myself to sleep that night.

I lived. Barely.

Then that didn’t work out and he seemed okay. So, things were going along swimmingly. He didn’t seem interested in dating again, and I thought was a great idea. As a girl I spent a lot of days boy crazy (painting boys names on my parents’ out buildings even! In BRIGHT YELLOW PAINT!) so I was enjoying this nice siesta from teen romance.

But then he came home and told me about a young lady, and she sounded very nice. A young lady that he spoke of quite highly, and I could tell something was different about this one. So, I gave him some advice. We insisted that he meet her parents, have her home before curfew, bring her flowers, ask permission to kiss her (if he dared!), etc. Then I waited and waited for him to come home from his date.

He came walking into our bedroom that night to tell me all about his adventure.

“Did you give her flowers?” I asked.

“No,” he said.

“Wyatt!” Why?!” I replied incredulous.

“Flowers don’t last. So I bought her some cool socks instead.”

Well. I mean. I guess he’s right. I just couldn’t help but laugh though. I cannot imagine waiting for my date to show up, and he brings me a cool pair of socks. I mean, I guess that’s really cool. I am allergic to flowers, and the kids are ALWAYS stealing my socks. So maybe I would really appreciate a good, neat pair. Plus, when you’re older you only really get socks on birthdays and Christmas … so a surprise pair of socks? That’s almost like winning the lottery.

You can bet she will never forget that. The date showing up with a pair of socks will be a story she tells forever. “I remember this guy from high school, handsome young man, brought me socks ...”

I don’t know how this will go for Wyatt, but I do know that, as a mother, I’m managing it better than I thought I would. I haven’t tossed myself onto the bed in a fit of dramatic woe yet. In fact, I do hope we get to meet this young lady. I told Wyatt that he can introduce us when he’s ready and that I’ll be on my best behavior. He just looked at me funny. I guess I can be a tad bit much sometimes.

He’s come a long way since being accosted by the little girl outside of the elementary school when he was little, and honestly I’m just really happy he no longer wants to marry his mom.

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