The First Post: When my daughter reached that magical age of 13, I realized I had two teenagers, no children. What now? Will she turn into an arm-crossing, eyes-rolling, jaded monster? Should I cover her from head-to-toe and be mistaken for being a member of a very conservative Eastern or Western religion, all so that she does not suffer the leers and come-ons from older males? What about my son? Can he walk the streets of Brooklyn safely alone without being robbed of his cell phone or stopped by the police? Oh, goodness; what kind of girl(s) will he bring home — please, no drama queens! And both of them need to concentrate on getting through high school and college — yikes! College is just around the corner! Hide!
And we didn’t get to Sesame Place! I still want to go see it! Meet Oscar and Grover!
In way less than 10 years, they’ll be considered adults. I will not have to design and orchestrate every step of their lives then — where/when/whether/how they go, eat, sleep, wear clothes. I will not have a say, or even an input; if I’m lucky and they have time, they’ll allow me to offer an opinion.
Just a handful of years, so much to do. So much to learn. So much to debate. So much fun to have.
How lucky they’ve grown up in Brooklyn, New York, which, no matter how it changes or stays the same, is still the most beautiful, best city in the U.S.
So, I felt the need to write it out. Using Brooklyn as the backdrop/jumping–off point, this web log is about teenagers (11–22) and their parents and making the most out of those years.
Mylie or Rhianna… or Madonna or Whitney? Green Day or Black Eyed Peas… or Foreigner or Funkadelic? Prefer Corbin or Zac…or George or Denzel? Doesn’t matter; all are welcome to make comments. Let’s exchange ideas and have some fun.
No comments:
Post a Comment