Adolesence Was More Fun When I Was Young!

Ben and Robin got into it this morning.

Among the wad of papers at the bottom of Robin's backpack yesterday was a crumpled up form from the federal government asking for information about the family's employment and income.

Ben very sensibly wrote, "This is none of your business," on the back and gave it to Robin to hand in.

"I am not handing this in!" screamed Robin. "I'm not going to school if I have to hand this in!"

"Get in the car, Robin!" said Ben.

"No, I'm not going to school," said Robin, scowling. He plopped himself down at the kitchen table, glaring at his father.

Solomonic Mommy stepped in and saved the day by sternly intoning, "Ben, fill out the goddamn form! Robin, get your butt in that car! Oh, and if you ever try to issue an ultimatum to either of your parents ever again, I am going to take that computer out of your room and you're never getting it back. Got that? Now get your pack and leave!"

"Fine!" said Robin. He rose from the table, sauntered out the front door and slammed it behind him. Hard.

I do hate adolescents. Even if they're related to me.

Especially if they're related to me?

And I wonder what adolescents used to say before the word "fine" was coined.

Actually I don't wonder. I know perfectly well that before the word "fine" was invented, adolescents were up at the crack of dawn tilling the fields the way God intended.

Adolescence is totally an invention of the Industrial Age, designed to keep people out of the workforce (since there really aren't enough jobs to go round) and I don't care how many goddamn so-called developmental psychologists try to tell me otherwise.

In the car on the way to school Robin tells Ben, "Max warned me how embarrassing it is to be the only kid who doesn't take the DARE training. I don't care if you guys are old hippies! I just want to be normal."

I had to laugh.

Because of course my sympathies were entirely with Ben in this particular fight but I know the DARE indoctrination permission form is coming up soon and I'm definitely opting Robin out of that. See, with adolescents, you have to pick and choose your battles.

In other news, this has been a slow-slow-slow week at the Little Store. Also my last round of ordering for the year which means there've been boxes and boxes and boxes to unpack – so when potential customers do straggle into the store, I feel like an inmate of colonial Williamsburg or something: Watch the Twenty-First Century Shopkeeper Unpack Inventory!

Had dinner with the faboo Embee last night and that was fun except she told me some very sad news – ___ _______ has bladder cancer.

I've always liked ___.

And having written that sentence, I'm now staring at it, wondering how is that relevant? Should my affection be enough to shield the people lucky enough to have earned it from all life disaster?

Why, yes. Of course.

But the look Marybeth and I shared over our Mexican food held more than mere tenderness for ___.

Finally, I said it. "It's beginning. We're that age, aren't we? The old crew is going to drop one by one."

Marybeth nodded somberly. "It is. But man, we had some great times together, didn't we?"

We did.

Kids these days have no idea.