My dearest Charlie — the teenager,
You’ll have to forgive me a moment. My heart rate immediately shot up, and I may need to find a paper bag to breathe into.
Today, my son, you woke up a TEENAGER.
The signs have all been there: the shiny hair, the slowly deepening voice, the fact that we almost stand eye to eye. And the moods….oh, the moods! So many moods!
I tell you it’s okay, that all of us experienced BIG emotions in our day. You roll your eyes and try to gaslight me about something else.
I kid, I kid (except maybe about the gaslighting). It’s thrilling to watch you navigate the person you’re becoming. For you, adolescence and adulthood are jumbled together in a candy dispenser, and each day it’s a mystery what that quarter is going to get us.
Here’s what I do know: As a 13-year-old, you’re sweet-hearted, loving, sensitive, anxious, shy, funny, musical, and smart — oh my goodness smart. You find this world fascinating. You ask phenomenally interesting questions, many of which I haven’t the faintest idea how to answer. In the car the other day, you asked, “How quickly can a falling human reach terminal velocity?” Well, thank goodness Dad was in the car because I have no idea what terminal velocity even is. The other night you taught us the Aztec numeral system — well, tried to teach me. Dad understood. Shout out to Dad once again, who was around when you read the word “fellatio” in a book and asked about it.
Speaking of which, you started sex ed in school last week. I know I’ve annoyed you with my questions about it, but I’m just so curious! One memory I have of sex ed in middle school is the teacher stopping a video right before a woman gave birth because it was too “graphic,” and all kids groaning in disappointment. Also, diagrams of anatomy, lots of them. Thankfully, sex ed in middle school seems to have evolved; the first lesson was on peer pressure and the second was on consent! Love this!
Still, I get the sense that you’re zoning out a bit. It makes sense; on the road to manhood, you’re at the starting line. When I was in 7th grade, I definitely remember being into boys, and I could tell you who was popular on any given day and why. That stuff doesn’t seem to matter to you (yet?), which is a bit of a blessing. Middle school politics can get messy.
Speaking of middle school, you’re learning an important lesson that smarts don’t necessarily equal good grades. Your grade in advanced math dropped to a D in part because you bombed a “notebook check,” an assignment in which you’re required to paste graded homework into a notebook. Stuffing the papers inside doesn’t count. And, yes, you may think this requirement is dumb, but adults get asked to do dumb things all the time by their bosses. As a reporter, my editor once sent me — alone — to a junkyard on a scorching hot Saturday to watch for people possibly stealing electronics in order to strip them for copper. I wasn’t supposed to approach them (made sense; I was a 23-year-old baby), so I just sat there in the dust for hours under the baking sun trying to decide if someone looked criminal and questioning my life choices.
But enough about me. Over the past year, you transitioned from our family’s screen time “chip” system to a chore/allowance system. You automatically get one hour of video game time a day, but we added chores to your week that also earn you some money. My favorite is that you make a meal-kit dinner for us once a week. At first, you were terrified of the stove and oven and couldn’t cut a thing. One 30-min meal took 90 to make. Dad and I hovered closely, making sure you didn’t slice off a finger or burn down the house. After only a few months, however, I can tell how much more confident you are in the kitchen, and your dinners are coming together more quickly. This is such a great life skill for you to develop.
One chore you refuse to do is change the litter box. I’m surprised at this, considering how obsessed you are with our cats, but I guess it makes sense to draw a line at poop. You truly, truly love them — greeting them first when you get home, making sure they have food, giving scratchies whenever they bellow. Sometimes you get a bit too up in their grill, and since both cats are very, very elderly (20 and 17), they can’t really run away.
Here are some other highlights from your 13th year:
Favorite Restaurants: Your birthday weekend featured two — La Bella Pizza and Breakfast Republic. You love BR’s pancake flight. Culinarily speaking, you’ve discovered benedicts this year and the gooey gloriousness of eggs over medium.
Best Vacations: Greece! You were the inspiration for our family trip last summer because of your love of Greek mythology. We took several tours, but you already knew so much. You also loved Spring Break in Palm Springs to celebrate Grandma Z’s 70th birthday. Nothing beats a week with access to a pool and spending time with your cousins.
Best School Trip: Disneyland with the school choir. For a souvenir, you bought me a dispenser that makes Mickey ears out of soap. I was so touched that you thought of me, and I’m happy every time I use it. You brought Jack home a sword and nothing for Dad “because I know you don’t like tchotchkes.”
Worst Illness: As a 12-year-old, you were able to get the adult Covid booster this winter, and it knocked you on your ass. Sorry, kid.
Worst/Best Hike: Ho Chi Minh Trail. I forced our family out of the house one day to explore this famous San Diego hike. It ended up being far harder and more treacherous than I anticipated, requiring you to climb down steep rocks at one point with a rope. As someone afraid of heights, this was a significant challenge for you. But you kept moving forward and made it through. I was so proud of you.
Favorite Board Game: Puns of Anarchy. You are exceptionally good at this game. Your unexpected “punny” phrases trigger my asthma because I laugh so hard.
Favorite Video Games: You saved up your own money to buy Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom. Also, Minecraft is still popular in our house — you and Jack play together all the time.
Relationship with your Brother: NOT BAD. I feel like I have to write this in caps because so many of my letters to you over the years lament your awful treatment of each other. You’re still obsessed with fairness and not missing out on something the other “got.” And you can be smart asses to each other. But I see more friendship now that I ever have.
New Skill: Theater tech crew. You built sets and did the lights for your school’s two theater productions this year.
Favorite Movie: “Super Mario Bros.” Peeeeaches…… peeeaches….. peaches peaches peaches.
Future Career: Astrophysicist seems to be the goal these days. Gotta work on that math grade, bro.
Now that you’re 13, we’re not only entering a universe where you’re a teenager; you’re also getting a phone. Dad and I waffled on the right time. It seems most of your peers have one, but we weren’t quite ready to give you the keys to the kingdom. Of course, we’ll have parental protections in place — no social media, blocked web sites, no texts/calls from people who aren’t contacts, no phone in your room — but we’re no dummies. These tools mean little to a determined kid, especially one who’s used tech all his life and who’s surrounded by other kids who are the same way.
For now, you don’t seem too interested in that stuff — you were most excited about playing online Scrabble with me — but we gave you an in-depth talk about the Internet anyway: What you may stumble upon. What it means. How headlines are designed to make you click on them, and why. How and why using a phone changes your brain and makes it easier to avoid important human interaction. It’s a conversation that will, for sure, continue.
I can’t describe the rush of feeling when I added MY CHILD’s cell number into my phone. I flashed back to all the firsts — the first time I saw you, your first steps, the first day of school, etc. And now, you’re a teenager, with your first phone. It’s boggling, terrifying, exciting.
This morning, you reminded me of another first yet to come.
“Mom, in three years I’ll be driving!”
Now where did I put that paper bag?
Hour 23 
These are such treasures. I appreciate the primer for the weekend upcoming.