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The Sleepy Eye Herald Dispatch - Sleepy Eye, MN
  • Evolution of a teenager

  • When my now 13-year-old son was just over a year old, I remember wondering if I had given birth to a caveman disguised as a normal, healthy, little boy.
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  • When my now 13-year-old son was just over a year old, I remember wondering if I had given birth to a caveman disguised as a normal, healthy, little boy.
     
    He seemed normal enough then, besides the fact that he crawled late and didn’t walk until he was 13 months old. But generally, he was a normal little boy.
     
    Except he didn’t talk much.
     
    Our son, the caveman, found it suitable to point and grunt until we figured out what it was he wanted. And of course, because he was the first child, we would scramble to figure out what he wanted without requiring him to verbalize it.
     
    However, I remember a rare occasion when Mason decided to give communicating verbally a try. He pulled me into the kitchen, pointed at the counter and repeated the syllables, “nana.” 
     
    I picked up everything on the counter that he could possibly have been pointing at. He shook his head “no” at each item and continued to point and say the word until out of frustration he threw a temper tantrum.
    Later that day I was grocery shopping and walked past the banana aisle which triggered my memory to purchase some more since Mason loved them so much.
     
    Like a slap along side the head it hit me.
     
    Mason had been attempting to ask for a banana.
    After that, and for a long time, requesting a banana meant standing by the cupboard where they were kept and throwing a temper tantrum until Mason received one.
    I remember feeling guilty for not picking up on his attempts at communication and worried that I had placed some sort of development scar on the communication center of his brain.
     
    The female brain is like a big ball of wire where everything is connected to everything, sort of like an emotional super highway, which is why this event was burned into my memory forever.
     
    As a toddler and now as a teenager, Mason is testing the waters of communication with me. This journey is teaching me just how unique the male brain is.
     
    Recently I was reading about how to understand men, when I discovered their brains are made up of little boxes. They have a box for the car, money, kids and wife just to name a few. When a man or teenage boy discusses a particular subject, they tend to go to that particular box and discuss only what is in THAT box.
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    Women, on the other hand, see how details and information relate to each other with underlying and interrelated connections.
     
    Both ways are a great way to think, but put them together in a relationship and things can get interesting.
     
    Hubby and I have been a little edgy this week. It may be because we are stressed that in 24 short hours the kids will be in our household full-time for the next three months. Or maybe it is because we are lacking vitamin D from not having seen the sun for the past 49 days. Whatever the case, our brains haven’t been able to communicate cohesively.
     
    While I’m stressing over minor details about preparing for the kids to come, Hubby is vaguely aware that a couple more short people will be occupying the house until the end of August.
     
    While I want to talk excessively about minor details, Hubby is resorting to his “nothing” box where he can honest to God think about nothing and still remain conscience, breathing and alive.
     
    In the meantime my teenage son is resembling more of the caveman toddler he used to be where he speaks in grunts and short phrases with little to no detail.
     
    I have a feeling the next several years will sometimes be a very long road, using different detours often to get to the same place–adulthood.

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