I'm Rubber, You're Glue...

I think I'm losing my mind. I just got back from picking up my son from youth group and suddenly I feel like a teen again and just want to do...something...to get a reaction out of little Koresch. The typical juvenille acts come to mind - trip him as he walks by, mumble a mature insult like "jerk" under my breath (again as he walks by) and my all-time favorite, throw a basketball directly at his huge, ego-inflated head. I'm not well. Honestly, I'm pushing 40 and yet this child has got me feeling like an angry kid again. My son was the more mature one tonight chosing to take the high road and not cave in to the nasty looks and vicious gossip of "the circle". I was proud.

I'll have to see Koresch when I'm at work tomorrow. He'll come in for class, buy a soda and thank me with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. He knows I'm not fooled anymore. I'm glad to see that there's one teen around me who knows that I am completely on to him. My teen still thinks me to be a bumbling idiot most of the time who doesn't have a clue - about anything. I can't possibly know about teen relationships because I was a teen in the 80's! Gasp! That's practically a hundred years ago! I don't have a clue about music because the groups I liked didn't scream as if in agony - the clear sign, apparently, of 'good' music. I certainly don't know a thing about parenting - if I did, I'd know that most good parents just let their children have whatever they want all the live-long day. I know, my sides hurt from laughing too.

On a positive teen note, one of my son's oldest friends came by today to...hang out with the 8 year old! Willingly! Michael is just absolutely beside himself that his 'best friend' came over to spend the afternoon with him. How cute is that? And yeah to the 16 year old boy who took a free afternoon to spend with a friends brother. Now THAT is a good kid. I'd still like to adopt him (and I think if asked at the right time, his parents would allow it).

Pray for me that I do not throw spit-balls tomorrow or put tacks on anyone's chair. Cross your fingers that there is not super-glue around or 'kick-me' signs lying around just waiting for the chance to be taped on someone's back. Help me to remember who is the grown up and who is the child.

Why don't the grown ups get to have any fun?