The Fickle Emotions of a Seventh Grade Boy

Ohhh, the fickle emotions of a seventh grade boy. At some point over the course of last summer, in what seemed overnight, my little boy who still gave me endless hugs and enjoyed hanging out with me, became a middle schooler. One who barely hugs (unless begged for) and has a hard time being within 30 feet of his mother. Rude. Normal, but rude.

It’s come to a point of desperation on my part, where I’m willing to beg and trade for affection. I’m not proud, but I’m willing.

Anyhoo, this afternoon I was running errands and didn’t make it home in time to greet my son when he came home from school, which is rare. I sent him a text letting him know it would be a bit before I got home, and then I also sent him this.

Me:   What are you doing?

N:      Sitting at home

Me:   Missing me?

          (no response)

          Choose you words carefully.

          (no response)

          What? Did I render you speechless?

          (still, no response)

When I got home, I asked him why he didn’t respond to my texts (which unfortunately isn’t rare).

His response?

“Well, you told me to choose my words carefully.”

“And so? You were still choosing your words?”

“Yeah. If I said ‘yes, I miss you’, then you’d come home and be all hugging on me and kissing my face. If I said, ‘No’, then you’d ground me. You see my problem?”

“Ahhh. Yes, excellent point. I see the quandary. And you’re probably right.”

So he chose silence. Sigh. Why is this kid so smart? It’s nearly impossible to get him to take any pictures with me as well. As evidenced in this picture to the right taken on Halloween. Do you see that black, hazy blur? Yeah, that’s him, dodging the picture at the last minute. Until I threatened him with being grounded. In which then he reluctantly agreed to take a picture with me.

Except this. Do you see the ridiculousness of this picture below?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I mean, seriously? He didn’t want to be in the picture. BUT HE HAS HIS FREAKING MASK ON, so what’s the big deal. He can’t possibly be embarrassed to take a picture with his mom, when no one even knows who it is in the picture with me.

Again. RUDE! Such is the fickle emotions of a seventh grade boy.

Hmph!