After last week’s bleak post on suicide I felt I needed to lighten it up a bit. Nothing will inspire levity like spending four hours with a giggling gaggle of thirteen-year-old girls (TYOGs).
We had our daughter’s thirteenth birthday party this past weekend. What started off as one of the pissiest moments of my week (don’t even get me started on the reservation bungle for our apartment complex’s clubhouse) turned into a multi-hour research project for my two YA works-in-progress. Here are thirteen tidbits I learned about TYOGs.
When asked if they’d like to shoot pool (in the clubhouse that we were able to use for all of fifteen minutes of the FOUR HOURS we’d reserved), TYOGs will look at you like you’ve asked them if they’d like to do the mashed potato.
TYOGs hashtag everything—out loud: #rude, #scary, #Frankenstein (all uttered, mostly sarcastically, while watching “The Monster Squad”).
TYOGs still see the wonder in things, like a five-year-old girl holding Frankenstein’s hand in “The Monster Squad”…and that TYOGs (and TYOs in general) wore fugly clothes in the late eighties (trust me, I know…I was there).
So, what about you? Tell me what you’ve learned if you’ve spent any time around TYOs lately. What’s changed about TYOs since you were one? Assuming you’d want to be a TYO again (you’re nuts), what would you do first? If anyone has any advice for this mid-FortyYO mother of a TYOG, please dispense it below…and quickly.