As I said before, #1 son is in a practical joking phase, aided and abetted by his friends.
When he goes out, #1 is operating under an assumed name.
Not the assumed name his father uses on occasion. My husband continues to be a dead ringer for Mr. Incredible. On last year’s vacation, we spent fifteen minutes trying to explain to a stranger in a Pizza Hut, that the “Bob Parr” on my husband’s convention name badge, was a joke, and not an amazing coincidence.
#1 has chosen a different movie hero to emulate.
He thinks he’s John Cusack.
This is early Cusack, we’re talking about. Not the rather jowly one from 1408. #1 wants to be ’80’s Cusack. early 90’s at the latest.
I can stand to live with Better Off Dead Cusack. And probably One Crazy Summer Cusack (although he is not memorable). And no teenage guy is likely to go wrong being Say Anything Cusack.
And, if I ever need anyone killed with a fork, the black suit, shirt, and tie I got him will come in handy.
I can even handle the eyebrow raising, the lowered chin gaze, and the hands in the hair thing.
But it is difficult, when #1 is out with his Cusack circle of friends, remembering that I am supposed to call him John. Or to field phone calls for John.
Or to remember that my name is Mrs. Cusack.
It was particularly awkward to explain to friend Matt’s parents, after talking to them for 15 minutes, that the family name is really NOT Cusack. They had never heard another name, were too polite to remark on the coincidence and think their son has been hanging out with “John” for a year.
Fine. I give up. So I’m Mrs. Cusack. My son is John.
When is my daughter, Joan, going to get here with a free cell phone?
To the best of my knowledge, #2 son is still exactly who I think he is.