How many Baptists should you bring on a fishing trip? At least two or the one will drink all your beer.
My aunts on my mother's side fit many of those stereotypes; they believe they know what is right and holy and get great enjoyment out of judging all those sinners around them with sympathetic words and a gentle "Bless their heart." Even as a young child, I made their eyebrows raise with my challenging attitude and determination to find my own way.
As an adult with kids of my own, I've enjoyed a subtle harassment of my beliefs and practices though it pretty much makes me laugh at this stage of the game. They don't bother most of the time now and just assume that my kids and I are going to do and say weird and inappropriate things with regularity though I try to respect how my mom wants me to be perceived.
At Christmas this year, my 13 year old son got a new gaming computer and the only monitor in my parents' house that we could hook it up to was my dad's 15 year old machine that he keeps in his bedroom just for decoration. After we have our small gathering in the morning at my folks' house, the extended family descends and we pack about 40 bodies in the house. The cleaning begins the minute the last present is unwrapped.
I'd barely had time to help the kids get their new gifts set up for play before my mom's older sister arrived to help with the cooking and table setups. My daughter was upstairs hidden in the study on her new laptop and my son was contentedly exploring the versatility of his system and ignoring the entrances and exits into my parents' room as everyone dumped their coats on the bed. I was running around as my mom's gopher, trying to help her avoid walking and setting off her arthritic foot.
The ingress of family continued and my generation showed up, bringing kids from ages 2-18. They all meandered or screamed upstairs, depending on their stage of kid-cool, while we adults congregated in the kitchen setting out the food. In short order, it was time for the blessing and eating.
As the line thinned, I realized that my boy wasn't among the crowd, so I went to fetch him. By this point, he'd been playing on his computer for over an hour and every single person who had come to celebrate had walked in the room to deposit coats.
I stepped past my uncle in the doorway and took a couple of steps when my son moved his head and I saw his screen.
I froze. I stared. I questioned, "Are those people NAKED?"
His head whipped around with alacrity.
"They're fuzzed out!" he immediately began his defense. While he was talking, the character turned towards the front and sure enough, his crotch was a pile of pixilation.
"See?!" He pointed and exclaimed as though vindicated.
I spluttered. "But they're NAKED. Why are they naked?"
I've already mentioned how I challenge the traditional roles in which I was raised. I haven't given specifics, but even I don't consider naked video characters acceptable gaming for a 13 year old in a house of elementary-aged kids, pixilation or not.
Looking for support, I turned to my uncle, who was still standing in the door and starting to crack up as he saw my face.
"Did you see that he was playing that?" I asked incredulously. His daughter is only five.
"Sure I did;" he replied, with a sideways glance and an awkward grin that indicated boys will be boys.
My red-faced son was quickly heading towards me to try to escort me out of the room. He did not, however, have the presence of mind to turn off the game first. When he reached me and took my elbow, I, who was still goggling stupefied at my uncle, turned to him and spotted a not very pixelated naked butt on the screen.
"What game IS that?" I asked, pointing at the screen I still couldn't believe I was seeing. On Christmas. With my uber-religious, judgy relatives there. And their little children. On Christmas.
"It's called Rust," he explained. "I played it at a friend's before and they had clothes."
My eyebrows rose with skepticism.
"Really!" he sputtered. "This is the beta version and they got rid of the clothes."
"It's really fun," he mumbled at the floor as the blush crept up his neck.
The idiot looked at me and said, "But I haven't saved yet!"
I threw up both hands and exited to my plate at the table. When I sat down, my cousin's husband asked if I was alright.
"No, not really," I muttered. I looked up at him. "I just caught Wyeth on a game with naked people!"
He shrugged at me. "Yeah, I saw that."
"What?" I shrieked. "Why didn't you tell me?"
He shrugged again. "I just figured you let him play it."
I was still speechless and staring when my son came in the dining room.
"It's okay, Mom," he said reassuringly. "I saved."
My silver lining was that I've finally trained them to not be surprised at anything me and mine do. Funny that I always thought that would be a good thing.
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