Imagine my shock when I found out my son was a Wanted Man. We stared at the mugshot together on the Wanted Poster, standing side by side. I could feel him next to me shifting in his shoes. He’s a big 13 year old. Fairly relaxed. But this new information had rattled him. I could tell.
He was wanted for a crime he didn’t commit. He was branded on that wall. I wanted to protect him. But, when they came and called his name I turned to him and said, “Are you ready?” He nodded, enthusiastically, and shot me a big white, crooked smile. He wanted correction. He wanted straight teeth. He gave me a little hug and he was gone.
I waited restlessly. I ran an errand. I came back. When they finally let me in to see him, I noticed he was getting some shock therapy.
We made plans for monthly visits, monthly payments and the pulling of teeth. When we got in the car Will captured a shot of his new self to send to his sisters.
We pulled up to school at recess. We were greeted with shouts, “Will, did you do it?”
“The Willmeister!, does it hurt?”
“Will, it get’s easier.”
And he was gone.
I checked twitter when I got back in the car, looking for Will’s tweet about his braces. I didn’t find one but I found a tweet from the night before. It read “That awkward moment when your father is dancing to Taylor Swift.”