My son, Brody, turned 13 last Friday.  Yes, he is now a teenager.  My youngest turd (my term of endearment for my kids) just became a teenager.  He was sitting on my lap on the eve of this pubescent right of passage.  As the clock oozed past midnight, I looked at him and asked, “Do you feel any different at 13 than you did when you were 12?” 

“Yes, I think I do, Dad, ” He responded.

“In what way?” I wondered. “What is different for you today than yesterday?”

“The Responsibility,” he answered

I almost barfed.  I laughed outloud and so did Brody.  As if, in a few seconds of time, the weight of his personhood became heavier.  Don’t send me emails explaining the psychobabble of teenage transcendence.  I know what you mean, but certainly this is not thrust upon him at 10 til midnight on the eve of his birthday. 

As if to prove my point for me, Brody woke up the next morning at 7:30 so he and I could play RockBand on the Wii before the women arose.   Oh, the responsibility of it all.  BTW, our Wii band is named “ZitNipple.”  Watch for our World Tour coming to  city or village near you.  ZitNipple rocks with Brody on drums and me on the bass.   Oh yeah, the responsibility of it all.

Happy New Year