I just realized this morning that in a few days I will have three teenage grandchildren. Now in my minds eye that is impossible. My brother is only four years younger than me and his grandchildren are like seven and four or close to it. Come on. I have one grandchild that is close to twenty one, no he is twenty one. Generally with the teen years upon my fine little short people they straightened their shoulders grew at least five inches along with their mouth. When they were eight or nine they were respectful because they knew that you were bigger than them and that you made the rules that they had to follow in order to live in your house.
All of a sudden when the “teen” is attached to the number of years that they have been walking the halls of this world everything changes especially their attitude.
Now I will admit my attitude changed also. I started yelling more. I banged my fists on the kitchen table more, and I might have used bad language more. All of this that happened was not my fault. None of this was my fault. Frustration moved into the spare bedroom when I was unaware and was tempting my darling children into becoming teenagers. The “ager” is what made me become the woman I turned into an aging frustrated old woman.
Now for the good part, I got through that part of my life by hook and by crook, so now I will watch my children go through their children go through the “ager” years. And I will smile!
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