Seal of (Dis)approval

I had a total Jenny-from-the-Bloggess moment the other day on my way to dinner. Mark and I came across a random garage sale with a bunch of junk tossed out on the lawn. I didn't see any big metal chickens, but one item did immediately catch my eye.

It was amazing. A giant wire seal balancing a ball on its nose; I couldn't take my eyes off it.

"Oh my God, that's AWESOME!" I gasped.

Mark did not agree. He tugged at my sleeve and said impatiently, "Come on, Mom, let's go."

But I couldn't move. "Mark..." I said, transfixed. "How great would that look in our backyard?"

He sighed, perhaps envisioning how to explain to his friends why there was a giant circus seal in the middle of their baseball game.

"Mom, it won't even fit in the car," he said.

He had a point there, but I've never let logic slow me down. It was BIG--but still, I wouldn't be dissuaded. I stared at it, smiling like a mad woman.

Mark knew he had to pull out the big guns. "Mom," he said in a tiny little voice. "I'm hungry."

And that snapped me out of my seal-induced daze. "Fine," I said. "I can't believe you're gonna make me pass on this just because you need to EAT." I was about to start in on how art--especially a sculpture as fantastic as this--is food for your soul, but Mark wasn't having any of it. He walked away.

Later on, walking back to the car, I had an epiphany. I realized what the seal really was, and I dragged Mark back across the street to confirm it.

The homeowner approached me with a smile.

"I love this seal," I gushed. "Is it a topiary?" (That's right--what's better than a wire-seal? A circus seal-shaped PLANT!!)

"No," she answered. "You plant a tree in the middle, and it grows all over the wire."

"Um...OK," I said. It seemed mean to point out that is, in fact, the definition of a topiary, so I didn't.

Mark realized I was caving and panicked. "Mom, seriously, it won't fit in the car!" he said. "You can't get it home!"

"I can roll down the window so the ball sticks out in the back," I said. "You can ride in the front seat." I could feel the crazy coming on--I NEED this seal!--but I couldn't help myself. I wouldn't feel complete unless I had a topiary circus seal in my yard.

But Mark, and the fact I only had $5 in my pocket, finally prevailed. He managed to drag me off, and though I kept staring at the seal lovingly over my shoulder, he wouldn't let me go back.

"You are no fun," I told him yesterday. I was still thinking about that seal. "I could've put it in the front yard. Do you know how cool that would've been, to have a giant circus seal out front?"

But apparently Mark does not appreciate the cool. He gave me one final serious look, sighed, and shut the door to his room. 

I keep telling myself it was because of regret, and the fact that he finally realized--too late--just how cool it really would've been. He can shut the door on me, but he'll never be able to shut the door on that regret.