I realize that Oldest Chicken will be thirteen in a few months. But there are times when this realization just slaps me in the face.
For some unknown reason, she's developed this fixation with motorcycles. Yeah, I don't have enough to stress over. She wants a death machine to ride around on. And don't get me wrong. I LOVE to ride on motorcycles. But my thirteen year-old? Not so much.
We saw a Kermit green one the other day when we stopped to get some gas. OC became all excited. THIS is how the conversation went:
OC: Look at that bike! I love those colors.
ME: Here. Let me just slide that bad boy in the back of the van, and we can take it home.
ME: And then feel free to stop by and see me at the Police Station while they charge me with theft.
OC: Okay. And I'll be riding my new motorcycle.
See what I have to deal with?
We won't even get into the fact my Middle Chicken wants a VW Bug. I could take my hands and squish one of these like an aluminum can. But she wants one so she can put a coordinating flower in the car to match her outfits. Yeah. See my eye twitching?
And then...to top it ALL off...OC did something that I didn't see coming. Didn't have a clue.
*sigh* She picked up a teen magazine.
I all of a sudden flashed back to my days of doing that and felt incredibly old. Before you know it the heifer will be picking out husbands and honeymoons. I'm not ready for that! Oh geez. *rubbing throbbing temple*
I'm off to write on some of my stories. You know, the ones where even though the characters aren't biddable, I can look at them and say..."I typed it. Therefore it is. Deal." It's nice to have some semblance of control.
1 year ago