(Why yes, I am pretending not to realize that I have all but abandoned writing this thing this summer and am just skipping over all the details and moving on. Thanks for noticing! I will say there’s been entirely too many trips to the funeral home for people close to my family & it’s all very sad & I just can’t write about it for the sake of my own brain. Authors who write sad, dramatic stories: how do you do it?! Hats off, really.)
So, one of the huge things that happened at the McGill home this summer was that Brody became an official teenager. 13. Thirteen. 13?!?
How did this happen? Honestly, I have no idea. I swear just yesterday he was toddling around clutching a calculator & refusing to speak to me.
But suddenly he’s taller than me & speaks constantly, sometimes when it would be much better to just stay quiet. (I believe all “teens” do this, yes?)
So far most of our teen angst has come from me begging him to wash his face while he wails “why are you so obsessed with this?!!”
Ooo! Maybe I should write “Boy, Wash Your Face” and get in on the trend.
“Did you wash your face?”
“Argh! Go wash your face!”
“In a minute!”
“No, wash your face now!!”
“I will soon!”
I haven’t read “Girl, Wash Your Face!” but I’m going to go ahead and guess that this doesn’t inspire the masses quite like it does.