I have a very important announcement.
So pay attention.
My twelve year old son is entering puberty!
(I know, shocker.)
How do I know my twelve year old son is standing at the precipice of mood, hair and pimple-hood? Besides the fact that he is twelve years old and I have my own puberty behind me as experience? He makes it a point to tell me this. Several times a day.
"Hey Mom, I must have eaten more meat at dinner because I'm starting puberty."
"Hey Mom, I need more deodorant because I'm starting puberty."
"Hey Mom, I'm sleeping more because I'm starting puberty."
"Hey Mom, I'm staring at this Lady Gaga video on TV, you know the one where she prances about in underpants, with my hands in my front pockets, because I'm starting puberty."
Don't hold me to that last one as a true quote. It is factual though. I witnessed that bit of puppy love today. Kind of makes you raise your eyebrows a little, doesn't it? My eyebrows hike themselves up and his lower lip droops on down.
But then, most anyone prancing about in a thong might be fascinating at that age. Stay away from my boy's disco stick until he's 35. Whores of Babylon, all of ya.
The moment this kid sprouts an armpit hair he's going to want to take a photo and put it up on this blog because that will be a momentous occasion requiring commemoration. And I will try to discourage such oversharing. Instead will post a photo of the cake we baked in celebration. "Happy Pube Day Son!"
Lord help me on the days he discovers all the other wonderments of his newly emerging manliness. Thats a lot of cake.
My seventeen year old son takes hour long showers.
I need to drink.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
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