Growing Boy

The other day you said you were headed to the shower. "I stink of puberty" were your exact words.

Yep, puberty stinks, but you haven't truly figured that out yet. You're tickled because today you got your first real zit- a cute little whitehead on your cheek. I'm sorry that you won't always think they're cute.

The week before last you came out of the bathroom all excited because you were sure you'd grown armpit and pubic hair. Haven't checked your crotch, but there is no real armpit hair, just peach fuzz. I hated to bring out down. You've watched almost all your friends shoot up and sprout hair and heard their voices change- you don't understand why it hasn't been your turn yet. You wanted me to buy regular milk to see if the BGH wouldn't help things.

Lately you've been driving me and Simon CRAZY. You go all sullen and rude. You insist you have to be right about something and won't listen to a word we say. You go deaf at random intervals. You take fourteen million times as long to do a job as any normal, healthy person should.

I love you anyway. Often, after you blow up in some spectacular fashion, you apologise and say you'll never do it again. I always say "Yes you will, but I'll still love you anyways".

It's true,
Mom