Sitting at breakfast today B’s voice cracked. He immediately blushed and began rambling about his current situation:
Mom, this sucks. The day I caught puberty my life ended. I hate all of this hair in my arm pits; my deodorant makes it stick to me. It itches! I’ve got zits. I hate zits! They’re nasty and it looks like my nose is HUGE! I hate talking because I keep doing this squeak thing. Going out in public is embarrassing. When’s it going to stop? Why did I have to catch puberty? This SUCKS!
By this point I was struggling to hide my smile. The day he caught puberty?! I spent the next 5 minutes explaining that we don’t catch it; puberty isn’t a germ that we pick up if we don’t wash our hands and it won’t be over any time soon. Poor B, I could see that he’s going through a lot and I know its going to get worse before it gets better, but couldn’t bring myself to tell him that. I remember my own crazy ride through puberty, but being female, I never (thankfully) had to experience many of the outwardly noticeable effects that it has on boys. I dealt with mood swings, learning to shave my legs and underarms, and growing breasts, not a cracking voice, spontaneous erections, and what looks like a dirty lip due to burgeoning facial hair. My little guy is becoming a man, much faster than I imagined possible. I wish I could hand him a pill or rub in a cream that would slow down or even stop puberty, I really do, but I can’t. So, for at least the next few years, we’re both going to have to deal with the effects of puberty, symptom by miserable symptom. For now, I’m off to the store to buy medicated face wash and less sticky deodorant!
