That Dreaded Moment

So we're all sitting at the table tonight having dinner. Just your average, middle class, suburban family of four breaking bread and sharing the highlights of our day.

My eight year old starts talking about how they've been learning in health about how bad drinking, smoking and drugs are. He was going into great detail about exactly how many minutes a cigarette takes off your life. He passionately discoursed on illegal drugs like marijuana and how it is worse than cigarettes and wondered why anybody would ever hurt their bodies or risk going to jail by doing any of these things. I nodded my head emphatically and extolled the virtues of clean living and how it is better not to even try any of the things we talked about. He agreed.

And then, he asked the dreaded question.

"So, basically dad, you never smoked or done any of those things right?"

Prolonged, dramatic pause.

I froze as I reached for my glass of water. My wife lovingly looked at me. I knew the 1980's would eventually catch up with me. Heck even the baby stopped and looked at me as he had a baby carrot stuck to cheek. All eyes were on me for what seemed like an eternity. The entire dinning room froze and spun 360 like a Matrix fight scene, with me stuck in the middle.

"Uh, well, son, you see drugs are really bad. . . "

And just then, much to my relief, he asked something about Grandpa smoking and I was able to quickly shift the conversation to Grandpa and all his vices, thus removing the spotlight from me. Temporarily.

Now, in my defense the enitre decade of the 80's is kind of blurry. In fact, 1985 is almost a completely lost year. So remembering some things will be difficult. But there are plenty enough memories and good people around me who are more than willing to fill in any gaps in my memory. So eventually, when my boy asks again, I'll have to come up with a better response. I have no intention of lying to my kids about my past mistakes. I just wish the list were not so long and incriminating. I thought I would'nt have to worry about this until I caught him trying a cigarette in the backyard late at night. He's only eight and he's already asking these questions. What'll I do when he's thirteen?

Pray for me people.

I suddenly have the urge to listen to Pink Floyd and consume an entire bag of Doritos.