Living With A Teenager

 

 These teenagers...not the problem!

 It's THIS one!

 What, who did you think I was talking about?  Golda and Ruby are wonderful.  Ptolemy is the grumpy, surly kid who swaggers around with bedhead and a bad attitude, making demands and doling out threats.  It's like living with a 15-year-old.  Not to mention the fact that he always has some sort of wispy chocolate mustache to add to the teen look.  In the car when I got out a wipe to clean his face, he growled, "You're NOT washing my face!  Put your wipes away!"

Later I said, "Look at those big trucks, Ptolemy!"  He said, "No!"  and then, "You're SO mean, Mom."  Doesn't that sound like the unreasonable moodiness of a teenager?  He gave us attitude about church, too, saying, "I don't NEEDA go to church!  I needa stay home!  I want my drink, Circe!"   So he's calling us by our first names already, as if he's on the verge of moving out, piercing his eyebrow and starting a garage band. 

Of course, he's really sweet, too.  What would mood swings be without the highs? I had to take him to the zoo this morning to see if my two-year-old was still in that tiny body.  He was.  He ran and laughed and jumped off rocks, but he also demanded a corn dog and then claimed my cheeseburger, too.  So the teenager is still lurking, but I hope we can keep it at bay for a few more years.  With enough "tuffed amimals" and trips to the zoo, I think I can keep my baby little for awhile longer.