You Just Need to Get Pregnant

One Saturday my son told me that “You just need to get pregnant.” This is not the first time he has said some variation of those words to me nor will it be the last I’m sure. Since he has been about four and a half, maybe five he has been on my back to get married and have more babies. He has been very consistent, like auntie Betty at the family reunion all in your mix asking  “When you gonna give that baby a brother or sister” persistent.

Over the last few months, he has decided that the barbershop will be the place of choice to recruit my breeding partner and better half. On our first visit to the shop my son took a quick observation of the shop and whispered to me “Mom you can find a husband here.” I was so embarrassed. I looked around to make sure that no one heard him. The second time he made some comments that escape my memory however, it was still something along the lines of  “Aye girl if you gonna find a man the time is now.” To lessen the pressure and guilt I was feeling from being borderline pimped out by my own son, so I sent my mom on haircut duty. That only lasted a few weeks because she started taking classes on Saturday.

Recently, the heat has been on and again but this time he is getting more specific. So, now I guess he’s thought about it and I can’t just marry anybody in the barbershop. He tells me as I sit three feet away from his barber that  I should date him. Now, his barber is attractive I’ll give him that. But what he doesn’t realize there will be no mixing of business and pleasure in this household. So, as we leave out of the shop I tell him that I think his barber is married and he needs to drop this bright idea of his. He tells me “No he’s not.” I say, “How do you know”? He laughs. I tell him that he doesn’t know anything, and he tells me he was going to ask him next time.

The next appointment rolls around and I notice my son is being a little more chatty than usual and trying to insert his young self into adult conversation with the fellas. He smiles at me which isn’t abnormal but I mouth “Be quiet” to ward off any slick matchmaker tendencies that might have been stirred up.  When we got home later that day I told my family about his latest escapade. My sister asked him what was he and the barber was talking about while he was in the chair. He said, “I asked *James if he was gonna put a ring on it.” See, I can’t with him (shaking my head while I type).

Two weeks ago, we were walking to the car from the barbershop and my son says, “Mom it’s kind of weird that my dad cuts my hair.” We both laughed and then I told him to shut up and get in the car. Most people go to the barbershop for just a haircut but my kid is more concerned about getting me hooked up with somebody, anybody that will give him the little sister and brother he has been harassing me about. Little does he know I’m fine with just him, plus I don’t want to go looking for a new barbershop. We are from Chicago but we are not related to Bishop Magic Don Juan, so I need this little mister to slow up with his pimp game and let Jesus take the wheel.

* Name was changed 

Update: Since the initial publishing of this post the barber has gotten married to someone else and it was not me.

Carry on and Live Shamelessly!

dating/love, motherhood, Story time
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