It came in the mail today. My certificate of aging. The written verification of my deteriorating state. I'm in vehement denial, despite the written form. Kevin is very nonchalant about the whole process, but he's bald, therefore his opinion doesn't count.
What was this piece of small death on parchment? Jackson's junior high class schedule. There it was, written out in block schedule, his first step onto academia's turf. My first born baby is going to be in junior high school. In six months he will be 13 years old. I will have a TEENAGER!
How is that possible? I myself feel barely over 25. I suppose in West Virginia that's possible, but again, I reference Deliverance. I don't feel older. I don't feel like a real parent. I still like rock music, I still like to shop, I would probably still watch MTV if they played music videos. My old college roommates are still having babies, how can I have a TEEN????
|src="PICTURE2" /> Just a couple of months ago, I was standing over this kid's crib, crying because he was crying and neither Kevin nor I could figure out how to make him stop. Now girls call him.|
Life has suddenly taken a predictably terrifying shift. Yet, I guess, in some ways I'm looking forward to what the future has to offer, provided I don't have to keep getting any older.