George & Wendy Show

Wendy Parker

Surly teenagers: No match for crazy

| November 14, 2012

We have a 15-year-old son who has just recently discovered he’s 15 and can legally act like he’s had multiple head injures without us being able to actually inflict said head injuries. Up until about a year ago, he was our sweet little boy and wore concert t-shirts and normal, human-size jeans. He’s had long hair for a long time now, but never in the “screw you, society” way, more in the “disheveled nerd” kind of way. He wasn’t attached to a cellphone keyboard, and he never left the house much.

We were stupid enough to think we’d dodged the teenage bullet with this one.

Of course, some evil girl started the eventual decline into surliness, but that’s all I’m going to say because he’ll hate me forever if I mention anything else involving this evil little girl. He’ll probably hate me anyway, but it’ll be the fifth time this week, so I feel pretty safe in assuming he’s not actually going to hate me forever.  I’m just saying she’s evil. Because I can.

He’s a smart kid academically, takes honors classes and makes good grades.  We really can’t ask for better when it comes to his book smarts. He’s also got a really excellent sense of humor, and he’s seemed to have it since he could talk. It’s hard to get to this kid — he’s usually at least one step ahead in the conversation. With the newfound teenage assholiness, he’s sometime a pretentious little jerk.

He was recently in his second Drama Club play. He did a really good job — the whole cast did a great job.  He was told about a million times how awesome he was in one night, and consequently began talking down to his stupid parents about the play and how it was “cut to shreds so the audience could handle it.”

“Thou dost do us favors, kind sir.”

“What are you doing, Mom?”

“I thankest thee for thou’s kindness to the dumbest of us.”

“Why are you talking like that?  That’s horrible. Stop it.”

“Doseth it bother thee that I speak, my Lord? My Leige?”

“Really, Mom. Stop it.”

“I am but expressing my thespian gratitude, I am.”

“Now you just sound like Yoda. It’s not even funny. Stop it.”

“Ohhh. Ideas you give me, youngling.”

“Oh my God. Dad. Make her stop.”

“The force is strong with this one. Talk like this I will when friends he has over.”

“I’m never having friends over because you guys will act stupid. “

“No friends the youngling has. Lies he tells.”

“It’s not funny anymore, Mom.”

“Hilarious it is. Laughing I am.”

He stomped out of the room and we high-fived each other. Fifteen isn’t a match for crazy — yet.