I spent the entire weekend in the company of my 14 year old son, John having decamped to the cottage for a guys weekend. As such, we did 14 year old boy things, the reason being, as Ronan assured me, that we should do what he wanted to do, as he wouldn’t be hanging with me for much longer. I was agreeable, as I know from experience that this is likely to be true.
Friday night, we watched “Stand By Me”, which is the classic boyhood coming-of-age story, even if it is set in the late fifties, which Ronan claims is my era (I wasn’t even born then, but no matter). Saturday, I worked out and he played video games, then we went for dim sum. He ate his weight in shrimp dumplings, while I had steamed bok choy. Then we went shopping for shoes and school clothes. Shopping with boys goes like this: they will spend hours looking for the right pair of running shoes, but if you so much as glance at something for yourself, their eyes glaze over and they insist it’s time to go home. We then had a steak dinner, followed by James Franco’s Comedy Central Roast. Gross, rude and very funny. Sarah Silverman had the best line: “Seth Rogan rolled a big fatty before the show – it was the only way we could get Jonah Hill on the stage”. Hilarity.
Sunday, we played golf. Ronan taught me this complicated high five manoeuvre that we had to do every time one of us had a good shot. More annoyingly, he kept pretending to stab me while saying “The Lannisters send their regards”. MOST annoyingly, he would unscrew the handle on my pull cart when I wasn’t looking so I would set off and end up with just a handle in my hands. Hilarity. It was actually funny, but only the first five times.
By Sunday evening, I had had enough of being a 14 year old boy. But then so has Ronan. He’ll be 15 in November. And all grown up the day after that.