It’s Chinatown

It’s not really fair. You have a kid, and he starts off really small, can’t walk or talk, heck, can’t even feed himself, or get himself to bed without you.

Then, before you know it, he is tall. Sings in a register so low that only dogs can hear him. Pulls on size 13 shoes and wears these huge shoulder pads while playing football. Oh, and he eats a lot, but is able to feed himself. And, indeed, he does that with great success. (Q: “What happened to the applesauce?” A: “I drank it after practice.”)

The other thing is that he wants to be independent. And, you want him to be, that’s how he gets to be a man. So, he uses city buses to get to school, washes and irons his own clothes, and reminds you that his teachers expect high school students to manage their own work.

Guess what, though, he’s just barely 14. It doesn’t matter that high-school junior and senior dollies stalk him at dances. He is a newly-minted 14. He is not quite ready to fly without a net. Do you have to let them fall first?

He’s a man. (slap) He’s a boy. (slap) He’s a man. (slap) He’s a boy. (slap) He’s my man AND my boy.

Forget it, Doc Think, it’s Chinatown.

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