I have a 15 (nearly 16) year old son. He's a poet at heart, and just refuses to learn the technical things that would allow him to purge the crap that he carries around all the time. He brings me bits and scraps of things he's jotted down while on the bus or in the middle of math class - things that make me want to swoon, if not for the misspellings, lack of punctuation, chicken scrawled handwriting, obvious grammar problems, etc.
He has huge potential, and equally huge teenage tendencies to resist my advice. I'm Mom for goodness sakes, the dumbass in the family.The out of touch know-nothing that wants to control his life.
And he's funny! He came in yesterday to tell me that the bradford pear trees are fully bloomed at school, that they're really pretty - but that they smell like fish. This is funny, and scarey, because he doesn't mean fish at all, and I wonder how he would know what "fish" smells like, or if this is something he heard someone else say.
I once entertained the idea that he and I were close enough that he'd share theinformation with me when he lost his virginity. What a fool I was to think such a thing! We are close, but not that close anymore I don't think. I was delegated, at least part-time, to the enemy camp when I didn't try to save him from the court/probation thing. Not that I could have if I'd tried, but I didn't try. He needed to learn the lesson, and it has put a wall of sorts, a curtain at least, between us.