We have graduated to “tween” status with Zuki’s 9th birthday the other day. Wish I could say it felt like only yesterday I brought him into this world but to tell the truth, I didn’t do anything except lie on a table while my doctor cut me open, piled my guts on top of me to yank the sucker out. More to the point, it doesn’t feel like yesterday, it feels like nine friggin’ years ago. It’ll probably be another nine years before my boy finally remembers to put underpants on, but what the heck, that’s what moms are for – making sure little cracks are covered.
I tried to refrain from using the growth years terminology, like “terrible twos” and “punk-ass teenagers” but I have to admit, it does help when there’s no logical explanation for your child acting like an asshole. My parents didn’t have any of that, they’d just say, “it’s brain damage.” It did wonders for my confidence.
My introductory lesson to tween-hood came when Zuki became fixated on a pleather jacket (that’s plastic and leather, no Stevie Nicks). We bought it because it was the first time he ever expressed any interest in clothing that didn’t have a superhero plastered on it. Of course, he still wears his shirts and pants backwards. He takes a full two minutes to put his socks on because he forgets what he’s doing by the time he gets to the other foot. And I mentioned how he forgets underpants, right?
But when it comes to this pleather jacket, he’s like a different person. He got chalk on it the other day and went ape shit screaming, “OH MY GOD, I GOT CHALK ON MY SLEEVE.” Meanwhile the corners of his mouth were caked with tomato sauce. Then this morning, he left for school with his jacket zipped but his fly was wide open.
The things that used to make him happy are history and are being replaced by big kid things. No longer a child but not a teenager; too old for toys but clueless with fashion. I’m beginning to see the twilight of tween and I can’t see why I ever thought twos were terrible at all.