April 23rd, 2012 § Leave a Comment
It’s happening. He’s taller than his Mom now. And creeping on me. The voice is changing – deep and squeaky. He’s getting thicker and hairier. The kid eats like a horse. Anything and everything; anytime, anywhere. The other day, he went to the movies and killed a large box of popcorn. Got sick, passed out, woke up, and ate some more. As their appetite grows, I’d heard they stop talking. Wasn’t convinced. You know, it’s so tempting to believe your child is going to be the exception. Nope. “I don’t know.” “Dude, don’t you know anything?” “I don’t know.” But the speech loss is only around adults. It’s not so much a loss in the ability to speak; it’s an allergic reaction to you, the adult. Get him around some friends, and they’ll talk for hours and hours about boogers. I’d also heard you see less and less of ’em. Sure enough, the first chance he gets; he’s out. The whole thing scares the crap out of me.
It’s happening. She can wear her mother’s shoes. The last six months, she’s hit a growth spurt. Fingers, no more stubby, chubby childlike. They’re stretched, long like a woman’s. I have to be careful about going into her room. At school there’s drama with the girlfriends. This one thinks this about that one. And that one is best friends with the other, but doesn’t like this one, which means she can’t be with this one without getting that one pissy. Geez. Pre-teen Soap. Yeah, and I’d heard this for years. “Man, you better get yourself a shotgun.” She is pretty. Sure enough, the prepubescent little dogs are sniffing around. They’re not much of a threat yet – vastly under gunned in both physical and emotional development. They look like excited Beagles around well groomed Collies. Comical now, but I know they’re coming. In a couple years, big, black Rotts. The whole thing scares the crap out of me.
No matter how scared, I can’t become a buddy dad. You know, the one who tries by being a buddy – the cool dad which is to say, permissive dad. “They’re gonna be teens; they’re gonna mess around some. Relax.” Hell no. If ever they needed a father, it is now. I can’t become that grumpy dad either. The one who scowls and shakes his head for five years. That’s not working. Can’t let the fear leverage me. I need to stand; stand here and figure this out. I suspect with knees knocking and bowels emptied all the way through.