Sam + Bull = True Love

We had just finished dinner with Tighe’s grandmother at Jack Stack Barbecue on the Plaza, and Lou was in rare form. Actually, not rare form. Typical Lou, just on turbo charge. 

He told me earlier that he had trouble waking up from his nap at school, so his teacher gave him a cookie, which made him feel better.

What was in that cookie?

And can I have some? 

He was in a good mood. Just enthusiastic. Spastic. Chatty. Loud. Like I said, typical Lou.

He kept us all entertained—Tighe’s grandmother snickering—but I knew it was only a matter of time before he tripped a waiter with a tray of food.

So as we were still at the table paying the bill, I sent Lou and Sam to wait outside. 

But since the restaurant is on the corner of a busy intersection, I scampered after them pretty quickly. I pictured them wrestling on the sidewalk, then barrel-rolling into oncoming traffic. Mom anxiety, amiright?

As I passed by the hostess station and through the first set of doors, an older couple headed inside for dinner stopped me. 

“Were those your children?”

“Uh, yes?” I replied cautiously.

My face must have said, “Uh-oh, what did they do now?” because the woman was quick to reassure me. 

“No, it’s good!” she said, smiling and grasping my forearm to reassure me.

“They held the door for us!” the husband said, and he was almost as incredulous as I was. 

“Like little gentlemen!” the wife nodded.

Who did? I wondered to myself. Sam? Or Lou? It was hard to imagine either one doing that.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen Sam slide in or out of a busy store or restaurant, totally oblivious to the people around him getting spanked by the door he let it slam shut. Or the grocery cart as he’s spinning it in circles with reckless abandon. Or, so caught up in his own little world, he doesn’t even notice when his antics with Lou shot block a helpless bystander. 

Speaking from my own personal experience, it helps to be really agile, have cat-like reflexes, and be able to pivot, dodge, and weave in a fraction of a second when you’re hanging with those two. They’re a recipe for disaster, a public nuisance. And I mean that in the most loving, most maternal way.

“Oh, good!” I said back to the elderly couple in my most congenial voice. “You never know what you’re going to get with those two!”

“It was very sweet, very polite!”

“Well, thank you. Have a wonderful evening!” I honestly couldn’t have been more cordial if I was running for the local school board. A compliment about my kids will keep me flying high for days. 

Since we’d just had parent-teacher conferences that morning, I was actually higher than usual. Nate, Sam, and Tess all received really good feedback from their teachers, especially Sam. His teachers usually offer lots of praise, but this time his homeroom teacher seemed to go deeper, like she had some sort of authoritative insight into the inner workings of his brain, soul, and heart, and what she saw was all extremely favorable. Her premonition was a true feat because Sam is reserved, mysterious, and very difficult to read. 

His teacher is an experienced, veteran educator, so we trusted her. Plus, she hadn’t said anything that contradicted any of our own intel on Sam. He has a big heart; he’s very intelligent, focused, quiet but sensitive, and kind of a perfectionist. So positive, heartwarming, uplifting. It was all very reassuring. 

Rejoining Sam in the hallway after the conference, I felt like he could take on the world. He’s capable—no, gifted. Tighe and I need to get out of his way and let him soar. He’s ready. 

I was still wondering whether it was Sam or Lou who initiated the chivalrous door-holding act as I stepped out onto the sidewalk and turned to look for Sam’s signature kelly green Visitation football shirt. I wanted to tell him I was proud of him, to reiterate the kind words from the older couple who were the recipients of his valor and courtesy. Maybe he’s going to turn into a kind, virtuous, contributing member of society after all. 

But all I saw was Lou in his dingy grey hand-me-down track pants and brand spanking new Lebron James basketball shoes that he totally doesn’t need. He was patting the giant bronze statue of a bull famously planted on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant.

“Mom, look!” 

Sam’s voice. 

I glanced down toward the sidewalk. 

Sam was lying on his back in the mulch under the bull, reaching up to grope its testicles.

Both hands were gripping the penis, and he was sliding them up and down the shaft.

"Sam!" I gasped. “Get up! What are you doing?!"

The dichotomy of his Jekyll and Hyde behaviors, only moments apart, was jarring. Funny, obviously. But so paradoxical that it made me pause. With disgust.

In less than a few moments, I went from proud to repulsed. 

Here I was thinking that Tighe and I had succeeded in parenting him, instilling compassion, grit, courtesy, kindness, and fortitude, but in reality we had actually failed to teach him that it’s absolutely inappropriate—no, vile and grotesque—to jerk off a statue of a bull in public.

This, I suppose, is the nature of the middle grade years. So commendable and impressive in one instant, and then in the next, immature, crass, childish, and embarrassing. 

“Okay, time to go, Sam.” I knew we needed to get out of there before he got us fined or arrested for lewd conduct. I don’t know the legal statutes for sodomizing a bull in the midwest, but he’ll never get into prep school with that on his permanent record.  

As we crossed the street into the parking garage, he leapt up to touch the bottom of the sign hanging from the entryway. He missed by about eight inches and as his body returned to the earth, he swatted me with his lanky arms by accident, knocking the three to-go boxes I was carefully balancing, to the sticky, gross parking garage floor. 

I sighed, kneeling down to pick up the boxes by myself as he sprinted ahead to catch up with Nate. 

Not such a kind, courteous gentleman after all.