Playing host to a flock of teens
We had a group of teenagers here the other night. I actually
picture them more as a flock of extra large seagulls, descending
upon the house to eat everything in sight, and screeching joyfully
at the sight of a Nintendo Wii.
Playing host to a flock of teens
We had a group of teenagers here the other night. I actually picture them more as a flock of extra large seagulls, descending upon the house to eat everything in sight, and screeching joyfully at the sight of a Nintendo Wii.
At any rate, we were having a birthday party. Not that teenagers really have birthday parties, but more of sort of eating-and-hanging-out parties. There are no balloons, decorations, pin the tail on the donkey games or any of the many things that I used to run around and do at my kids’ birthday parties.
It’s like this when they’re teenagers: They want to have their friends over. They want you to fetch pizza and ice cream cake. Then they want you to leave.
Or at least hide from plain view.
It’s actually something I don’t mind doing, although I do manage to insinuate myself into the party at intervals.
The occasion was Hunter’s birthday. He turned 15 in July – it’s terrible having birthdays in July when all your friends are on vacation – and so we never got around to having a party.
It got to be so late in the summer that Hunter decided he might as well wait and have the party after school started. So that’s what we did. Only two months late, but who’s counting?
It was a motley crew indeed.
Hunter’s friends rather run the gamut. There was Chase, the clean-cut football player; Devon, who has crazy blond Peter Frampton-style hair that he has vowed never to cut; Chelsea, the vampire-book-loving semi-goth girl; and Ricardo, who is kind of sweet and shy.
Then there was Phillip, who I don’t consider really a guest, but a member of the family, since he’s here so much. He started out as a friend of my older son several years ago, but since has gravitated to Hunter.
He spends so much time at our house that I regularly put Hot Pockets on our shopping list, because the first thing he does when he comes over is look in the freezer to see if there’s anything to eat.
I like all these kids a lot. True, they’re noisy. True, they rarely pick up after themselves. But they do say please and thank you, and they seem to like it here.
Some people don’t care for teens, but I think they’re pretty wonderful.
I tried to stay out of the way, but occasionally circulated to eavesdrop on the conversations. Chelsea and I chatted about the “Twilight” vampire series, and I urged her to read the classic “Interview With the Vampire.”
The boys teased Chase about having to get home early because he had a game the next day; they all whooped and hollered together while playing Mario Kart.
A good, noisy time was had by all.
I guess I like having them over because I really like to know who my son’s friends are. And another part of me likes to see them happy, because there are so many unhappy things in the world.
For just one night, though, there are no worries, no fears, no outside problems. Just pizza and videogames.
And, of course, friends.
