My son thinks I’m embarrassing, but we made a deal

A version of this column ran July 8, 2012. This is the second of two parts.

I feel unjustly accused.

I don’t call my son cute nicknames like “Bubby” in front of his friends (anymore), or refer to his get-togethers as “play dates” (anymore). I don’t ask certain questions in public (anymore), like: “Is she cute?” “Do you like-like her?” “Are you wearing deodorant?”

When I write about Sawyer, he reads it before it runs. His veto power made this column difficult to write. As I came up with embarrassing things I do, he put the kibosh on each one.

Then there are things I think will embarrass him but don’t even make him flinch. I asked him to read a column about bra shopping. He didn’t care.

I even double-checked, asking, “What if someone at school says, ‘Oh, man, your mother wrote about her bra’? Sawyer shrugged and said: “I’ll say, ‘Yeah, she’s awkward. You should try living with her.’ ”

At a time when I find him more interesting than ever, Sawyer is at the age when he’d rather not be seen with me. It’s not personal, he says. He just wants his friends to see him as independent and mature, not a kid whose mom keeps wet wipes in her purse.

This from a guy who wore a Batman costume for a year when he was 4.

Some parents like to joke about how it’s their job to embarrass their children. I could comment on his Facebook posts, or talk about what a nice young man Justin Bieber seems to be.

But Sawyer would prefer that I didn’t. And I realized I wouldn’t purposely embarrass a friend or a co-worker. I owe Sawyer that same courtesy as he navigates the tumultuous teen years.

So we made a deal. I will try not to embarrass him, and he will try not to embarrass me.

I still can’t dance or sing in the car when he’s there, but it’s OK. I’ll always have those pictures of him as Batman.

(Sawyer: I approved this column in the hope that other parents might follow my mom’s advice and save even one teenager from further humiliation.)