Well, it’s official. I’m now the father of a teenager. From everything that I understand, my life is about to change, almost as drastically as it did when I first became a father.
Brittany, my oldest, turned 13 yesterday.
She has been looking forward to this day for over half a year. When she turned 12, she started calling herself a “pre-teen,” just so she could get that “teen” word associated with her age. At least four months ago she began telling me she was “practically a teenager.” I argued with her, of course, trying to explain the meaning of the word “practically.” I felt a little like former President Clinton trying to define “is.”
On her birthday card, we told her it was official…she was now a teenager.
So she asked for a phone.
I said no…but she and her Mom ganged up on me and forced me to change my answer to “I’ll think about it.” Both my kids like that answer because it isn’t a “no.”
I’ve told Brittany before that she never has to worry about me forgetting her birthday. Too many other events associated with it. First, the first day of the battle of Shiloh (the day that “WE” won) took place April 6, 1862. My grandfather (and his twin sister, Juanita, who as of this writing is still living) was born on April 6, 1919. My mother was born then on April 6, 1941.
Mom has always said it was a very good birthday present for her that year, 1995. (Of course, Dad, who’s birthday is 4 days later on April 10, told BJ if she didn’t give birth that day, just to hold her legs together for 4 days. BJ didn’t find that as funny as my dad did at the time.)
Actually, I think it’s neater for Brittany because it has really helped her know her family, know where she’s come from. I think too many younger folks today have no idea where they’ve come from, and I think that’s a shame.
Let’s hope I can remember that myself, as we dive into the teenage years.