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Sunday, November 27, 2005

End of the Beginning

It is with no small amount of dread that I make the announcement today that my wonderful wife and I are officially parents to five teenagers. There'll be no further "pre-teen" hedging necessary: it's all-out war.

Our youngest, our cutest, our nicest, too - the last upon whose shoulders any remaining hopes were pinned - she is now Thirteen. It's all downhill from here.

Happy birthday Cheech - not that you'll ever tear your arse away from "World of Warcraft" long enough to hear it.

7 Comments:

Anonymous stephenesque said...

Amazing. All your kids are older than me.
I'm only 12.

2:20 PM  
Blogger -jkg said...

haha. that was funny stephenesque.

as for your kids Fbc, suffer now, in a few years you'll be harking back to when you were smarter than them.

for christmas you should get them archived episodes of Charlie Rose, tell them its the "mature" thing to do, oh, and in honor of their coming of age [somewhat] donate their allowance to PBS.

haha. teens love donating money

4:31 PM  
Blogger F.C. Bearded said...

You have to admire a man who counts in base 32.

We're planning to "forget" christmas, the way the Evils "forget" their chores.

5:52 PM  
Blogger Whisky Prajer said...

Oooh - "forget" Christmas? Mr. Prajer is taking notes!

4:13 AM  
Blogger Cowtown Pattie said...

I once was one, so I know...

teens are boils on the butt of humanity.

But, we need them; otherwise, how else could we know how stupid we are?

Oh, to be that smart again...

Uh, no, thank you.

11:04 AM  
Blogger Bleak Mouse said...

Teens are essential. Without them, people would go directly from nine to twenty, and there'd be an inexplicable and alarming "short stature epidemic" among adults. Plus grown-ups wouldn't be able to see over steering-wheels, and auto casualties would skyrocket. Plus...oh, this is very scary.

2:52 PM  
Blogger F.C. Bearded said...

You are of course correct, Sir Mouse, that teenagers are essential: indeed somewhere in the dark archives I have complained before about the excessive sheltering of teenagers from themselves, and the horrors of teenism deferred until adulthood by the protestation and complaint of all those whining puritans who, more even than the teens they labor to "protect", are in dire need of a severe binge drink.

It is also true that for men over forty, such as myself, frequent proctological examinations are necessary: you turn up at the doctor's with a sore foot, say, and next thing you know you're playing Sooty.

Necessary, perhaps: doesn't mean we need to like them.

8:54 AM  

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