My oldest son is thirteen today. A teenager. I am the mother of a teenager.
We are going out to dinner as a family to celebrate.
I have an uncontrollable urge to make sure I DON'T look like the mother of a teenager tonight. I want the chef who will cook our dinner at Benihana's to think, as he throws knives and slaps shrimp around the tepan grill, I want him to think DANG she is way too young to be the mother of this teenager.
In three years my son will be getting a driver's license. In ten years he will be two years past the legal drinking age.
If my dermatologist was really smart, she would start blasting clients with all kinds of youth-enhancing treatments when their children turn thirteen. Having a teenager makes you venerable to youth-enhancing promises.
Mom, I know you are going to call me when you read this and tell me that it is even weirder to have a grandchild who is a teenager. Then again maybe you didn't think it was weird until now.