You’re scaring me a bit here, son. I had no idea that reading books about puberty would make you wish you had zits. I get that they’re a sign of growing up, but so are smelly feet and I don’t see you checking for that everyday.
Those books were supposed to get you all scared and freaked out about the dangers of sex and all the nasty hormone-induced mood swings. You’re supposed to want to take your time and enjoy being a kid for as long as possible. The grown-up world is a frightening and dangerous place. Just like Facebook, you don’t want to go there without proper training.
And zits are supposed to be something you dread, not anxiously await like some puss-filled badge of manliness you proudly wear on your forehead to indicate the functional status of your testicles. The whole point of the chapter on zits was to get you to start actively working on personal hygiene. Instead, you wake up every morning and run to the mirror in anticipation hoping that’s the day you become a man. I swear, if you check for zits one more time today, I’ll find a way to give you some of mine.
Oh, right, that’s something they didn’t tell you in those books: along with all the other genes I’ve given you comes one for everlasting puberty. That’s right, you’d better be careful what you wish for because I’m in my forties and I’m still dealing with some of the symptoms of puberty.
The moodiness could arguably be unrelated to puberty; it may be due to the fact that serotonin ebbs and flows in my body like blood sugar in an untreated diabetic (remind me to warn you about that one).
But the zits refuse to quit, as you recently pointed out quite publicly. Having my genes means you’ll have plenty of time to wear that badge of honor. And trust me, the novelty wears off.
I guess what I’m saying here is slow down. Take your time with this whole growing-up thing. Mom and I only have a little more time with a child in our lives. Once those hormones start flowing, it’s over. The innocent child will be gone.
Don’t worry, we’ll still love you—and we’ll certainly take advantage of you growing up by heaping a whole load of new chores and responsibilities on you—but we’ll miss our little boy, too.