The kids, they are a changin'

Wow, how much do I suck? I just noticed it's been a week since I last posted. Gosh - talk about getting caught up in one's own life. I'm sure all two people who read this on a (semi)-regular basis have been cursing me for days. I'm not sure today's post will put an end to that trend, but I'll give it a shot.

Brief history lesson: I am the oldest of four children. Well, technically, I'm the oldest of seven, if you count my dad's other three kids from his second marriage. But I digress. I have one child of my own, a 14 year old boy who is probably the best kind of 14 year old you can ask for - smart, funny, reads voraciously, enjoys being with his mom . . . all that stuff. He'll be 15 next month, which I can hardly believe - doesn't seem possible that he can already be 15 - one year away from driving a car - because I have not gotten any older. Amazing how that works. For the sake of maintaining his anonymity & innocence, we will call him . . . "Frodo" - because he loves Lord of the Rings.

"Frodo" has spent his formative years growing up out in the country, so there is a bit more innocence to his 14 years than you'll find in most boys his age. This includes not being shy about (or, rather, not thinking about) being undressed in front of mom. This didn't used to bother mom, having given birth to him & therefore having seen it all already - until that fateful day that he threw back the shower curtain unabashedly as I was there brushing my teeth - and I saw hair.

Yes - THAT hair.

Talk about a snapshot your brain doesn't want replaying in your head!

Needless to say, that's the day mom realized that shower curtains are not reliable forms of privacy. I'll brush my teeth in the kitchen from now on, if necessary.

I have two sisters - one who lives on the east coast with her two children & one who lives just a few hours from me with three children. All our names start with "M", so we'll call them M2 & M3 (I, of course, being M1). M3, currently a stay-at-home mom, calls me on a fairly regular basis, both to get her fill of adult conversation and to regale me with the latest antics of her children. That's where this story begins.

Hang on - I'm getting to the good part.

M3's oldest child, her only son, just turned 10 this week. Per M3, "Son#1" spent quite a bit of time in the bathroom yesterday (as pre-adolescent boys tend to do). After considerable time, he exits the bathroom excitedly to tell his parents (in his very high-pitched, up-speak voice that always cracks me up), "While I was in the bathroom? I found this hair on my testicle? And when I pulled on it? It was attached! So I cut it!"

As M3 mentally screamed, "NOOOOOOO!!!! He's only 10!!!", on the outside, she tries to play it down, by saying, "I'm sure it was just a hair from your head that fell into your lap, and . . . ", to which Son#1 said, "Oh, no, mom - it was ATTACHED! You wanna see where it was?"

And without waiting for an answer, Son#1 drops his pants, grabs & lifts his "package" (such as it is) and says, "See? It's red where I was pullin' on it!"

M3's husband, of course, got quite a kick out of all of this, telling Son#1, "Now son, you can't be showing your junk to your mom anymore. At least wait until it's COVERED with hair, then show it to her all at once." Yeah - she's lucky, alright.

Meanwhile, as M3 maintains her denial, Son#1 says, "Well, I can't wait to get hair under my arms! Frodo didn't get hair under HIS arms until he was 13! I bet I can do better than THAT!"

And they say kids don't have goals these days.