I usually engage in pleasantries and such at the beginning of my entries. Not today, y’all. Not today.
Apparently, according to the Destroyer, everyone in his grade except him is dating and our policy has made him a pariah. (Not true, unlike his mother, the Destroyer is popular.) I think I’ve touched on the whole middle school dating thing in the past, but I’m much too lazy to go back and look it up, much less link it here. However, the Big Man and I have decided that no one here dates until they are sixteen. Why? I’m glad you asked Or didn’t. Whatever, this is MY blog. Note: this focuses on the Destroyer because that’s who I just argued with. I’m sure when I fight with Wondergirl about this it will be entertainment at its finest. And you’ll get to read all about it.
1.) Responsible dating requires good decision making. Something the Destroyer has a hard time with. This is a boy who borrowed $190 Beats headphones from a friend and promptly got them stolen because he left them in his open backpack. Like, immediately. He just now requested that we buy him a steel door for his room. Because we live on the Starship Enterprise.
2.) It also requires trying to keep a 14-year-old girl happy. Never, ever, in the history of humanity, has there existed a perpetually happy 14-year-old girl. Never. (We never think about it, but you know that at one point Michelle Obama threw herself on her bed and cried because she was the only one who could go to a Marvin Gaye concert. YOU KNOW SHE DID.) Listen, I was a fourteen year old girl. Which means I was the star of my own tragic soap opera. As are most 14-year-old girls. I absolutely do not want my son to feel responsible for that. (Also, for future reference, I do not want Wondergirl to inflict that on someone’s son. Although, to be fair, in her case it absolutely would involve bail.)
3.) This may sound a bit callous, but raising kids is an investment. I mean, food, gas, sports equipment, and–most of all–time. If I’m putting all that into my son, I expect to see a return on my investment. I don’t need some girl turning his head, distracting him, and possibly ruining that. And, I’m about to be real you guys, if some girl does, she’s going to have to pay me back. Oh, y’all think I’m playing? I’m dead serious. I will have my hand out and she will have to run me my coins. To the tune of $75, 000. (Figures are approximate. But I remain dead serious.) That’s a lot of overtime at Chick-Fil-A or wherever the kids are working these days.
I don’t know. I know that a lot of parents feel confident in letting their kids make the choice to date in middle school. I’m probably taking the easy way out. Which is what I do. See the above statement about laziness.