The Hardest Job in the World

There is no manual for it.  There is no licence for it.  There are no clear cut rules for it.  There are no guarantees.  It's a job that some desire, but never get.  Others might get the position, but don't want it.  And there are those of us who want it desperately, but struggle to get it.  It's both the hardest and the best job in the world.  It's called parenting.

Rob and I have survived the sleepless nights of babyhood.  We have survived the toilet training (not easy for boys).  We have survived the first day of Kindergarten (although I cried when I said goodbye to Thomas).  We have survived the scraped knees when he learned to ride a bike.  Now we are faced with a different beast:  THE TEEN YEARS!

We have a son who is the size of an adult, who has the voice of an adult, who has the intelligence of an adult (at least in some ways), who has the hormones of an adult (if not more), but who is definitely not an adult.  He thinks he's ready for the adult world.  He thinks he's got it all figured out..  He thinks he's ready.  We know he's not.  He thinks he has the maturity (he is mature for 13).  He thinks he has the knowledge.  He thinks he's ready.  We know he's not.  He thinks he's an adult.  We know he's not.

We tell him to enjoy his childhood years.  He will grow up soon enough.  Then life will be filled not just with freedom but also responsibility.  We tell him to take his time.  He has all the time in the world to grow up.  Slow down.  This world wants him to grow up far too fast.  Slow down.  He has the rest of his life to deal with adult issues.  S L O W  D O W N.  Enjoy his childhood.  For it only happens once. 

Don't get me wrong.  We have an intelligent, responsible, mature, talented, good-hearted son.  But he's still a teenager.