By the time you read this, my son will be a teenager. I can’t
tell you how awful this is. Yes, I know that all of us grow up. I
mean, I was once a kid myself, even though Junior doesn’t believe
me. If you ask him, I was born a full-fledged adult, ready to
become a parent just so I could fulfill my lifetime goal of
embarrassing my kid.
By the time you read this, my son will be a teenager. I can’t tell you how awful this is. Yes, I know that all of us grow up. I mean, I was once a kid myself, even though Junior doesn’t believe me. If you ask him, I was born a full-fledged adult, ready to become a parent just so I could fulfill my lifetime goal of embarrassing my kid.
Anyway, to prepare for his descent into the teenage years, I have been reading tons of books on the subject. I have to say they’re pretty dang depressing. I think the most that I can hope for is that one of us emerges alive. I’m kind of hoping it will be me. That’s not too selfish, is it?
Even worse, the books all indicate that I’ve already failed as a parent and I should just start saving for Junior’s therapy because he’s going to need it. In fact, my failures at parenting include, but unfortunately are not limited to, the following:
– I have had the utter and complete nerve to humiliate my son by speaking to him in public. And in private. And in front of his friends. And when he is on the phone to his friends. Or when he is simply sitting on the couch thinking about his friends which we all know allows the friends to establish a telepathic link so they can hear me talking to him. And let’s not even discuss how many times I have made this worse by calling him one of the annoying nicknames I have given him over the years.
– I have sung along to the radio in my car with the windows open where anyone could hear me. And by “anyone,” I obviously mean his friends/people who may in the future become his friends/people he wouldn’t want to have as friends now, but may change his mind about at another time/random members of the opposite sex.
– I have stood next to him in public where people could get the mistaken idea that he is related to me. For the definition of people, see above.
– I have punished him by taking away the most important things in his life, i.e., his PS3/phone/basketball/skateboard/bike/social life/TV. Strangely, his homework is never included in the list of things he finds most important.
– I have assigned him chores and actually (gasp) EXPECTED HIM TO COMPLETE THEM. I know. I’m evil.
– I have never, ever, allowed him to do something just because ALL the other kids’ parents allowed them to do it, no matter what “it” was.
– I have answered the door on more than one occasion in my pajamas. And it was usually one of his friends ringing the doorbell.
– I have attended numerous displays of team sports where I committed the felony of actually cheering for my child. OK, maybe there were times when I didn’t know what I was cheering for, but I cheered. Sometimes for the opposite team, but still. It’s the thought that counts, right?
– I have required that he save money for the future, even though he is apparently going to be so fabulously wealthy as an adult that he will never in a bazillion years need to save a dime. And no, I don’t know how he plans to become so fabulously wealthy. I’m afraid to ask since I suspect it might involve some sort of criminal activity.
– I have written about him in the newspaper. Now, in all fairness, when I first started doing this, he couldn’t read. And once he started reading, I did try to stop. But let’s be honest here – kids are funny. I just couldn’t help myself.
But Junior, as a birthday gift, this is my last column about you – although I will continue to humiliate your father and detail my adventures in shoe shopping. Unless you do something really funny. Hey, if I’m paying for all that therapy you’ll need in the future, I might as well get my money’s worth. Assuming I survive your teen years, of course.
