Eleven

What my eleven-year-old should understand:

When you leave the house with your Ipod and an attitude worthy of its own atmosphere, I still see you in pull-ups toddling through the kitchen, asking for chocolate milk.

When your friend calls to talk to you and I ask him if I can talk to his mom, you are not always in trouble.  I happen to be a person too, and your friend's mom...is my friend.

When you bring your friends into your room to check out your "man cave," I'm laughing in the laundry room (and listening to your conversation).

Homework, chores and piano practice are not a known cause of death in eleven-year-old boys.  Nope, they're not.

It doesn't matter how well or badly you do in school, it doesn't matter how much you fight with your sister, it doesn't matter how much lip you give me.  I'll always love you.  That won't change, rub off or molt into something else.  It's just a fact of life that will never go away.  So...peace already.