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.