Running with Scissors

Sara Peterson-Davis has worked as a newspaper researcher and reporter, as well as a communications director and consultant. She and her husband, Monty Davis, can be found in Liberty, Mo., keeping their two children from running with scissors. Contact Sara

Oh Romeo!

by Sara Peterson-Davis

It’s amazing what 25 years and two kids can do to your perspective.

I was reminded of this the other night when our family went to see a production of William Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet.

The last time I saw this classic I was a senior in high school, and along with most everyone else in my English Literature class I could relate to those two crazy star-crossed kids from fair Verona. We were all Romeos and Juliets — restless, dramatic, idealistic, romantic, seemingly misunderstood and blindly eager to fall in love.

But this time when I sat in the audience the scenes didn’t unfold for me in exactly the same ways they had when I was 17. This time I couldn’t put my feet in Juliet’s slippers or Romeo’s boots. Instead, I found myself relating more to the Prince Escalus. As the parent of a soon-to-be teen, I was surprised to find I had gone from hearts and flowers to law and order.

As the play opened, I couldn’t help but be annoyed that Romeo hadn’t bothered to come home the night before. While years ago I thought that was so cool, now I thought he was due for a good grounding.

When Romeo crashed Capulet’s masquerade ball in a mask to be near a girl who told him to leave her alone, I couldn’t help but wonder if Rosaline would consider a restraining order if the play was set in a 21st century American suburb.

I knew my perspective had definitely changed when we got to the famous balcony scene. I wanted to jump up on stage and shake the snot out of Juliet.

When I was her age, I would have been just as spastic if some great-looking guy was standing under my window in the middle of the night risking his life to talk to me. But now the “mom” me wanted to say, “Hello? He’s a guy you met at a party about three hours ago. Two hours, 59 minutes and 59 seconds ago he was madly in love with someone else. Climbing a rose trellis might be romantic now, but what about when you need a little space? What? Now, you want to meet him tomorrow to get married? Go to your room young lady!”

Then there was that Friar Lawrence guy. When I was in high school I thought he was great. He seemed to understand our teen lovers better than anybody. Now, I just saw him as someone who took aiding and abetting to whole new heights. Elopement? Harboring a fugitive? Drug trafficking? Breaking an entering? When was someone going to arrest this guy?

But what about those parents? When I was a teenager I could have only hoped for parents as checked out as Romeo and Juliet’s. Now, I was more than a little appalled. The Montagues evidently didn’t know their son was wandering the streets and crashing parties. The Capulets couldn’t carry on a conversation with Juliet without a major intervention from hired help. Isn’t that what got Paris Hilton headed down the wrong road?

Anyway, by the time Romeo had swallowed the poison and Juliet had run herself through, I had to admit I wasn’t the same person I was all those years ago.

Because that person would have never considered having their kids fitted with satellite-monitored GPS anklets.

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