I love my family. Of course I love my boys Anson and Roan, but I’m talking today about my Brother and Sisters. I love those guys. We all seem to have influenced each other in ways that have given us similar senses of humor, similar ways of speaking, and all of these shared experiences that give us the same memories to smile about.
|However there is a problem. I don’t know if it is so much a problem as it is a phenomenon. The thing is, when I’m with this family, I turn thirteen. I am possibly stuck forever with the maturity and whims of my thirteen-year-old self. And it isn’t just me. I notice that Elden, my brother, turns about seventeen. Kellene, the oldest of us, maintains her seniority, barely- by reaching for eighteen. Lori has the aura of her|
sixteen-year-old self, and Christy. Poor Christy. That child is stuck at eight.
I don’t know what the mechanism is for us to be stuck at these ages when we get together. I have no idea what events cemented us in these places, but it is real. My thirteen-year-old tendencies to shock with inappropriate comments come alive. Elden begins entertaining us with jokes, voices and impersonations smacking of his Speech-Team-Tournament days, Kellene listens with perpetually rolling eyes and loving (but slightly condescending) smirks, Lori will laugh at everything going on but is probably secretly planning her escape from the room. And Christy? She gets teased and harassed (mostly by the thirteen-year-old).
|It is a rowdy bunch. It always seems a little shocking if one of our own children enters the room. The time-warp breaks, and we get back into our current-day characters, pleading for good manners or the like from our offspring. I don’t know about the others, but I always feel a little fraudulent about being a mother when we’re all together. I mean seriously, am I ready to be a mother at thirteen years old? I think not, though it would explain certain hair-coloring tendencies my son has.|