Life with an Alien

I'm not sure when it happened, but one night I tucked my Angel Face into bed. In the morning someone else was in her place.

The hair and eyes looked the same. The voice sounded the same, but abruptly changed to a distorted, whiney screaming. About everything. Since that day, things have not been the same around here.

I expect the whining--that's just a kid thing designed to pay us back for all the things we did to our parents. Whining I dispise, but I can live with. The over the top reaction to everything is what sends us all running for cover waiting for it to be over.

Friends with grown kids reminisce about their kids' teenage years. I listen intently to their descriptions because they sound vaguely familiar. Its like living with an alien they say. You should just shake hands and make friends--they will be here for a while they tell me. A few years, maybe.

My quivering lip is mistaken for sadness at my baby growing up. Really it's just the thought of "a few years, maybe". They are talking about teenagers. I'm not.

7 is the new 16. Someone could have told me.