Teenage Dream

In April, Blue and Green turned nine. Nine. I can't believe how old they are. Mostly, Michael and I are just glad that we no longer look like this:


But it's also a strange time. The boys seem to be sitting on a line that divides childhood and adolescence. At any given moment, they can be darling little cherubs OR they can be sullen, sulky, dissatisified mini-adolescents declaring that everything is disappointing. When I wake up in the morning, I'm never quite sure which kind of kids I'm going to get.

A few weeks ago, I sent some cute little boys off to school. The ones that returned brought home a full dose of swagger in their backpacks.

Blue walked in and said,

'Sup.

Then he picked up his ipod and popped in some headphones.

"Wait a minute." I said to him. "What kind of greeting is that? How was your day?"

"Boring," he said.

"What did you do?" I asked.

"What?" he answered. "I can't hear you over the music."


Sadly, I have to confess that the ipod was my idea. I was honestly just trying to deflect the continuous begging for a smart phone. Because, you know, their friend So-And-So has his very own iphone, and omigod, he can play the BEST games and download the BEST music and PLEASECANIHAVEONE?????? So I started thinking about how they could download audio books on an ipod, which, is somewhat educational, right? Surely an ipod would be both cool AND a wholesome recreational device.

Well, so far, the kids have not downloaded any audio books. Instead, it's all about music. Have I mentioned the music? Weren't we just listening to sweet songs about school buses and the occasional ode to Martin Luther King? Not anymore.

I certainly got an earful in the car the other day. I was driving along, trying to elicit more than one word answers from my kids, when they suddenly burst into song. Katy Perry's song. The one that goes like this: Let's go all the way tonight/No regrets/Just Love. Then there's a part about letting someone feel you in your skin tight jeans.

Ahem.

(For you oldsters out there, THIS is Katy Perry)

I have to say that I am all about free expression. I basically spent the whole of ninth grade writing about music and my rights to listen to whatever I wanted. At the time, we were learning the mechanics of the 500-word theme. My first opus was called, "The Walkman: Pro or Con?" In it, I had to write 5 paragraphs: an introduction, a paragraph in which I acknowledged a contrasting perspective, two supporting paragraphs, and a conclusion. I was definitively a fan of walkmen, but I did write a solid second paragraph in which I conceded that there might be times when using them could be dangerous. "Granted," I wrote, "wearing your walkman while riding your bike might make it hard to hear a car honking at you. This could result in damage to your ten speed or even injury."

(For you youngsters out there, THIS is a walkman)

I followed up with a second walkman-related essay called, "Don't Censor Music! (Keep Your Judgment Out of My Walkman)." This piece was in response to the Parental Music Resource Center's attempt to keep explicit music out of the hands of children. Remember? Tipper Gore was the head of it, and she propelled the whole movement to get ratings attached to music and videos. At the time I was outraged. Of course, now my own children are yodeling about underage sex while strapped into their booster seats. In response, I have developed a fantastic beginning for the second paragraph of that ninth grade paper: "Granted, some people are worried that their nine year-olds will sing a loud and off-key version of Katy Perry's 'Teenage Dream' at the Thanksgiving dinner table in front of their grandparents. This is a valid concern."

Mostly I am just happy that Blue and Green don't seem to understand what the song means. I know. I know. I could have used the skintight jeans episode as a teachable moment, but I was honestly too busy choking on my Diet Coke to handle it.

Some issues do indeed appear to need some clarification, however. For instance, a few months ago, the boys and I had this discussion:

Green: We learned a dirty word in school today.

Me: Oh?

Blue: It's the worst word.

Me: The worst word? What is it?

Green: It starts with the letter F.

Me: Tell me what it is.

Blue: It rhymes with "Coke."

Me: What?

Blue: You know...

Me: Foke?

Foke! The dirty word is Foke! That is fantastic! My kids learned the "dirtiest word," and they got it wrong.

But on the very same day, the boys were preparing their Easter baskets for the Easter Bunny. Michael and I are baffled about their ongoing belief that a rabbit breaks into the house in the middle of the night and brings them Easter gifts and chocolate. This year he brought an iTunes card so that they could download more Katy Perry. Now, technically, I suppose, a man in a red suit could slide down the chimney with a bag of iTunes cards. But a rabbit? Really?

Michael is worried that they are going to learn the truth about the bunny on the playground and be outraged at us for lying all these years. Frankly, I am not so sure that they will believe the person who spills the (jelly) beans on this one. I imagine the scene will unfold something like this:

Blue: Dude, I just heard from Linus and Sally that there's no Easter Bunny. They said that our parents fill the baskets.

Green: 'Sup wit dat? That can't be right.

Blue: Yeah, foke that.


I guess I have to get used to half-and-half: half little kid/half big kid; half believer/half skeptic; half delight/half ennui. (I might need a large glass of half gin/half tonic to get me through it). In the ever-so-deep words of Katy Perry: It's the lessons in our lives that make us wise/But young or old I'm told it's the same/Oh, these growing pains never go away, so I'll just keep on trying.