Ours has started the long, slow descent into teenager-hood.
Every day she becomes more sullen & surly yet, if possible, more antagonistic and unpredictably likely to explode at the slightest provocation. I'm sure she's suffering from extensive bone loss because no human being of normal calcification could possibly slouch for hours of pouty silence in those positions. She's probably drinking because she always looks like she's suffering from a hangover. And her vocal cords have probably atrophied because her entire vocabulary has shrunk to two words. (Per week.) Spouse & I don't know whether to be happy that she no longer wishes to speak to us, or whether to fear the sympathetic detonations triggered by incredibly insensitive & intrusive interrogations like "What'd you do in school today?"
So when people tell us how great our kid is, we laugh and say "No, seriously. Where have the aliens taken our biological progeny? Does the mother ship hold enough ammunition to survive the challenge?"
But yesterday I was in the orthodontist's waiting room. I'm always a little on edge there because it's like a hypercaffienated flashback from a bad acid trip. Usually the office door opens, a cheerful sadist hygienist says "Next!", a sullen teenager slouches through the portal, and a couple muffled screams later it opens to disgorge yet another fleeing satisfied customer. I keep telling myself that there's nothing to be nervous about, I'm too old for that now, it can't happen to me again! But you see the same frozen expressions on the faces of the other former patients waiting parents.
So when the door opened and the hygienist actually entered the waiting room, we all stiffened like Christians around a hungry lion strolling out of its cage. She looked me right between the eyes and, clearly having wrung my physical description from a hapless orthodontial victim, said "Mr. Nords?"
When I recovered consciousness she was actually smiling at me. (Orthodontial staffs all have VERY nice smiles.) She didn't seem too concerned by my reaction; I guess this happens to them a lot. I uncurled from my fetal position and said "I thought you were going to talk to me about my teeth, I mean my kid." She said "Yes, I just had to meet you. Your daughter is the most wonderful patient. She's always chattering about her Dad, how wonderful your retirement is, and how much you guys enjoy surfing! Is it true that you both do tae kwon do? She just can't stop talking about all the fun you two have together! Are you feeling OK? Why are you laughing like that?!?"
I'll be darned. It looks like we'll survive this maelstrom, although clearly it's not experienced outside immediate family. I guess we'll let her stay in our house a while longer!
I think I'll tell my dad that I'm sure glad I didn't behave that way during MY teenage years.
Every day she becomes more sullen & surly yet, if possible, more antagonistic and unpredictably likely to explode at the slightest provocation. I'm sure she's suffering from extensive bone loss because no human being of normal calcification could possibly slouch for hours of pouty silence in those positions. She's probably drinking because she always looks like she's suffering from a hangover. And her vocal cords have probably atrophied because her entire vocabulary has shrunk to two words. (Per week.) Spouse & I don't know whether to be happy that she no longer wishes to speak to us, or whether to fear the sympathetic detonations triggered by incredibly insensitive & intrusive interrogations like "What'd you do in school today?"
So when people tell us how great our kid is, we laugh and say "No, seriously. Where have the aliens taken our biological progeny? Does the mother ship hold enough ammunition to survive the challenge?"
But yesterday I was in the orthodontist's waiting room. I'm always a little on edge there because it's like a hypercaffienated flashback from a bad acid trip. Usually the office door opens, a cheerful sadist hygienist says "Next!", a sullen teenager slouches through the portal, and a couple muffled screams later it opens to disgorge yet another fleeing satisfied customer. I keep telling myself that there's nothing to be nervous about, I'm too old for that now, it can't happen to me again! But you see the same frozen expressions on the faces of the other former patients waiting parents.
So when the door opened and the hygienist actually entered the waiting room, we all stiffened like Christians around a hungry lion strolling out of its cage. She looked me right between the eyes and, clearly having wrung my physical description from a hapless orthodontial victim, said "Mr. Nords?"
When I recovered consciousness she was actually smiling at me. (Orthodontial staffs all have VERY nice smiles.) She didn't seem too concerned by my reaction; I guess this happens to them a lot. I uncurled from my fetal position and said "I thought you were going to talk to me about my teeth, I mean my kid." She said "Yes, I just had to meet you. Your daughter is the most wonderful patient. She's always chattering about her Dad, how wonderful your retirement is, and how much you guys enjoy surfing! Is it true that you both do tae kwon do? She just can't stop talking about all the fun you two have together! Are you feeling OK? Why are you laughing like that?!?"
I'll be darned. It looks like we'll survive this maelstrom, although clearly it's not experienced outside immediate family. I guess we'll let her stay in our house a while longer!
I think I'll tell my dad that I'm sure glad I didn't behave that way during MY teenage years.
