How do you mark the exact point when a boy becomes a man? Is it the day the police take him away from his parents because they are unable to care for him and he suddenly becomes a caretaker to his two younger siblings? Or the day he smokes his first cigarette? Or perhaps, just maybe, is it the day his American papa takes him to the store to pick out his first, very own razor?
If that doesn't make you a man, I don't know what does.
Sasha has this friend, Oleg, who is also being hosted by an American family. After being apart for over a month, they were able to see each other through Skype last night. When Sasha laid eyes on him, his laughter overtook his words. Oleg had a mustache. I told Sasha I thought it looked like more of a baby caterpillar on his upper lip. Whatever it was, it seemed that this was the first time Sasha had seen him with anything but plain old skin up there. And he thought it was dang funny. And kind of mortifying.
After a long conversation with his friend, Sasha casually waited for Aaron to come home. When he pulled up into the driveway, Sasha wasted no time popping the question. He wanted a razor. No, he needed a razor. Aaron studied his upper lip and questioned him, but Sasha was adamant. And off to the store they went.
Now it was my turn to casually wait for the boys to come home. I positioned myself on the porch swing and pretended to be reading a novel when they pulled into the driveway. Before the truck came to a stop, Sasha flung the door open, ran over to me, and sat down on the swing. Out of the crumpled plastic bag he revealed his treasures, one by one. A can of smooth performance shaving cream. A top rated, fusion technology, Gillette Mach 3 razor. And Risk, sensual scent after shave. I grinned and made that woot woot noise, perfect for occasions like this.
Then I asked Sasha if I could take a closer look at the situation. I tilted his head toward the light, squinted my eyes, and tried with all my might to locate a facial hair. I studied from several different angles, but each time I came up empty. The teasing continued, so he decided to show us his pits. Ahh, there's something. I'm pretty sure most men in America don't shave their pits, but Aaron does. It's cleaner, just like sitting down to pee. Maybe Sasha wanted to be like him, or maybe Ukrainian men like a clean pit too. Whatever the reason, he was proud to actually have something the razor could cut.
I've never seen Sasha excited to take a shower before this morning. I didn't hear him come downstairs, but the sensual waft of aftershave alerted me to his presence. He was holding his mouth in one hand and his razor in the other. From under his hand, I heard the word "fu", as he handed me his razor. And then I saw it. A drip of blood escaped from under his palm, and ran down his chin. "Sasha, what happened?"
"This razor is fu, Ma."
"Let me see your face."
He lifted his hand to expose 2 long slices, horizontally across his bottom lip.
"Sasha, you don't shave your lip silly. And you have to be careful and go slow."
"Sasha slow like dis," and he demonstrated his careful shaving technique.
He carried around a paper towel for a good while, trying to stop the bleeding. I took his other hand and led him into the bathroom where I showed him the tiny piece of toilet paper stuck to the shaving wound trick. He told me that was "cdraaazy", but I insisted he try it.
I'd pay a lot of money to have a picture of Sasha right then. But I didn't have the heart to snap a photo when his pride was already on the line. You have to be careful about those things when you're dealing with a man.
If that doesn't make you a man, I don't know what does.
Sasha has this friend, Oleg, who is also being hosted by an American family. After being apart for over a month, they were able to see each other through Skype last night. When Sasha laid eyes on him, his laughter overtook his words. Oleg had a mustache. I told Sasha I thought it looked like more of a baby caterpillar on his upper lip. Whatever it was, it seemed that this was the first time Sasha had seen him with anything but plain old skin up there. And he thought it was dang funny. And kind of mortifying.
After a long conversation with his friend, Sasha casually waited for Aaron to come home. When he pulled up into the driveway, Sasha wasted no time popping the question. He wanted a razor. No, he needed a razor. Aaron studied his upper lip and questioned him, but Sasha was adamant. And off to the store they went.
Now it was my turn to casually wait for the boys to come home. I positioned myself on the porch swing and pretended to be reading a novel when they pulled into the driveway. Before the truck came to a stop, Sasha flung the door open, ran over to me, and sat down on the swing. Out of the crumpled plastic bag he revealed his treasures, one by one. A can of smooth performance shaving cream. A top rated, fusion technology, Gillette Mach 3 razor. And Risk, sensual scent after shave. I grinned and made that woot woot noise, perfect for occasions like this.
Then I asked Sasha if I could take a closer look at the situation. I tilted his head toward the light, squinted my eyes, and tried with all my might to locate a facial hair. I studied from several different angles, but each time I came up empty. The teasing continued, so he decided to show us his pits. Ahh, there's something. I'm pretty sure most men in America don't shave their pits, but Aaron does. It's cleaner, just like sitting down to pee. Maybe Sasha wanted to be like him, or maybe Ukrainian men like a clean pit too. Whatever the reason, he was proud to actually have something the razor could cut.
I've never seen Sasha excited to take a shower before this morning. I didn't hear him come downstairs, but the sensual waft of aftershave alerted me to his presence. He was holding his mouth in one hand and his razor in the other. From under his hand, I heard the word "fu", as he handed me his razor. And then I saw it. A drip of blood escaped from under his palm, and ran down his chin. "Sasha, what happened?"
"This razor is fu, Ma."
"Let me see your face."
He lifted his hand to expose 2 long slices, horizontally across his bottom lip.
"Sasha, you don't shave your lip silly. And you have to be careful and go slow."
"Sasha slow like dis," and he demonstrated his careful shaving technique.
He carried around a paper towel for a good while, trying to stop the bleeding. I took his other hand and led him into the bathroom where I showed him the tiny piece of toilet paper stuck to the shaving wound trick. He told me that was "cdraaazy", but I insisted he try it.
I'd pay a lot of money to have a picture of Sasha right then. But I didn't have the heart to snap a photo when his pride was already on the line. You have to be careful about those things when you're dealing with a man.
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