My son and one of his buddies flew over from Maui for a concert at Blaisdell Arena, and on the drive in from the airport, the Boy announced they were planning to go skydiving.

Why why why?

His flippant answer — “yolo” (you only live once) — was exactly what you’d expect from a member of the “fomo” (fear of missing out) generation.

To that I could only reply: “Ftlogayttkm?!” (For the love of God are you trying to kill me?!)

I have done a lot of thrilling things in my life, mostly job-related. Jumping from a plane at 20,000 feet is not on my bucket list — although it ranks pretty high on my kick-the-bucket list, along with swimming with sharks and trying one of Craig Gima’s Chinatown “treats.”

At 22 years of age, the Boy already had compiled an unsettling record of risk taking that included shipping out for a summer job at Yellowstone National Park right from high school (grizzlies!), followed by an ill-planned trip to Europe to meet up with the Macedonians he befriended that summer. (Tracking him as he flew standby to Skopje via Los Angeles, Detroit and Frankfurt, with an unanticipated layover in Serbia? Worst 36 hours of my life, and that was before he lost his wallet.)

More recent pursuits include hunting (at least he’s using a crossbow; that’s safer, right?), free diving (I can’t, I just can’t) and his present job with an adventure tour company that has him dangling from death-defying heights on a near-daily basis.

And let’s be honest: Just being young and a dude carries its own risks. Ask any car insurer.

So skydiving just seemed like poking fate with a stick.

Is it bad that I was relieved when the two young men partied so hard the night of the concert they were in no shape to catch the tour van to Dillingham Field in Mokuleia the next morning? (You didn’t think I was going to drive them?) I was happy to deposit them back at Honolulu Airport so they could soar home above the clouds, cocooned in a Hawaiian Airlines jet with their seat belts safely fastened.

A couple months later my husband and I embarked on a road trip to the North Shore and were cruising toward Kaena Point when we passed the skydiving signs at Dillingham Field.

Screech.

Should I do it? Can you imagine how mad the Boy would be if his mother went skydiving before he had another chance to?

I pictured his reaction upon receiving a Snapchat video of me giving the thumbs-up sign while plummeting to earth at 120 miles per hour. Plus, it might provide a deterrent to his thrill seeking. I mean, how cool is skydiving if your mom does it?

I decided that if I could get a seat on a plane that day, I was going for it. I was waiting in line to sign up in the crowded lobby of one of the skydiving companies when it was announced the rest of the day’s jumps were being canceled due to approaching bad weather.

We’ll never know whether I would have jumped that day. I still might do it. Yolo.

“She Speaks” is a weekly column by women writers of the Honolulu Star-Advertiser. Reach Christie Wilson at cwilson@staradvertiser.com.