My 7th grader and his cougar “girlfriend” (she’s in 8th grade) have broken up. I’m excited about that. The town crier (my 4th grader) delivered the news. Again, I couldn’t have been more ecstatic.
On the day that it happened I knew something was different with my oldest – I just didn’t know what it was. He was deep in thought on the front porch, fooling with his skateboard. He’s usually very cheery and huggy when we first see each other. But this day’s hug was half-hearted.
ME: “Hey there, how are you? How was school?”
HIM: “It was OK.”
As a parent, there are times when it is clear you should not press an issue. Something was up but I figured I would find out soon enough –
AND SURE ENOUGH :
TOWN CRIER: “Mom! How was your day? I know something that might make it better.”
ME: “OK – Shoot.”
TOWN CRIER: “Guess who doesn’t have a girlfriend anymore?”
TOWN CRIER: “NO! You know I’m not really into girls, yet.”
ME: (note to self, remember to ask what “really” means) “How do you know they broke up?”
TOWN CRIER: “I was there, kinda. I got to library after him and when I got there he told me. “
ME: “Hmmm… Whose idea was it”
TOWN CRIER: “Hers”
ME: “Do you think she was mean about it? I’d hate to have to fight her for being mean to my son.” (Kidding. Kinda. Okay, not really.)
TOWN CRIER: “Well, it gets better – I have a picture of her – look!”
And there she was, the 14-year-old girl who I’d only met via text (I periodically check my son’s phone). Even though I thought their interaction was appropriate (at least for the texts I saw), I did not like the idea of him having a “steady”. I remember my Mom feeling the same way when I was a teen (although I KNEW there was not even a remote sliver of a chance that I would be allowed to talk about – let alone have a “boyfriend” at 12 ½ years old). But when I got older and was able to talk about boys, I didn’t understand why she didn’t want me to be stuck on one. But, like all things generational, I understand now. Focus brings intensity. And one teen’s puberty is intense enough – there’s no need to concentrate that intensity… no good can come from focused, intense, concentrated, puberty. ABSOLUTELY. NO. GOOD.
So here I am, reveling in my son’s pain. I feel as if I’ve dodged a bullet. He’s still a virgin (after all, that’s what this comes down to, right?) and I’d like to think this break-up offers one less potentially tempting opportunity to trade in that status.
Filed under: Uncategorized