I'm the parent of a tween. It's official. I know this happened in April, when my boy turned 12, but the fact hit home lately when our town had its local carnival a couple weekends ago. It has been for at least the last five years that the kids and I walked in the parade with different organizations we're part of, and Hubbster would drive the car to the end, where there was a carnival for the kids. We'd buy the "all day" or as I call them "ride til you puke" wristbands, and the kids would ride the rides while we people watched. The day would be capped off with carnival food (there is something about carnival corn dogs that makes me just crazy!).
This year, Brownie was all up for business as usual. Cubby wanted no part. He got his wristband, asked for a few bucks, told me he had phone in hand, and asked if he could go off and find "friends" to hang with. Yep, I was left holding stuff, watching Brownie ride things that would have induced a migraine in me. AND they got rid of the nice ferris wheel we usually did together. Plus, Hubbster had to be someplace, so it was just me. AND it was really cold out that day. I felt abandoned at the carnival. It stank.
But Cubby sure came running when I texted we were getting something to eat, so he'd better come now or not get anything. I still got it. Until he gets a job.
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