My 13 year old son is proudly flaunting his growth spurt. I am startled daily by his testosterone-laden voice, alarmed that we have an intruder. Tonight I stood at the counter, doodling as he lamented that in 14 hours, he would be scarred. For life. His innocence (dramatic pause for effect) . . Lost. Forever.
I continued doodling while he expressed how tragic the rest of his existence would be unless I revoked my signature on the permission form. Finally, my doodling complete, I held up my finished product and announced, "Son, I respect you so much that I've drawn a diagram so you won't be so tragically scarred tomorrow." I held it up for him to see. He clutched his eyes, screamed something about being blinded and ran to his room.
I do pity the boy. I was just doodling t's and q's.
I continued doodling while he expressed how tragic the rest of his existence would be unless I revoked my signature on the permission form. Finally, my doodling complete, I held up my finished product and announced, "Son, I respect you so much that I've drawn a diagram so you won't be so tragically scarred tomorrow." I held it up for him to see. He clutched his eyes, screamed something about being blinded and ran to his room.
I do pity the boy. I was just doodling t's and q's.
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