Pre-teen vocabulary and parental headbanging!

Embarrassing, mortifying, HATE, nevver - these are words that have not merely gained great frequency but a whole new level of intensity in our household ever since Roz turned twelve. "I hate you dad" is never far from my reality and is usually followed closely by the sound of a (now I know it's sturdy) door banging! And Roz is the angel in our family, at least that's what everyone tells me, despite Max's claim to the title in her poem Family!

You'd think television would have prepared me, with stars from Lizzie McGuire, through That's so Raven to the more recent Hanna Montana being able to articulate Whatever! (also what EVER!) in so many different syllables and tones. But I must admit that I'll probably be runner-up, if not the outright winner, in the Dad-who-doesn't-get-it contest.

Apparently I have a loud voice - which has only gotten louder in my dotage (read after forty) - so constantly my angelic Roz is embarrased or mortified by nearly any statement I make to her at home or in public. It could be "That's a lovely skirt you have on" or "You got something on your chin." Either statement could set her off. She'd go storming away, the lovely wife would, in her more considerate moments be content with rolling her eyes and in less charitable moments have a pungent remark or two to make. It appears I can never do anything right when it comes to my nearly thirteen year old!

Even today, as watch Taare Zameen Par, in the darkened theatre it is okay for her to hold my hand, for me to hug her and lend her the spare hanky, but I had better not act like I know her once the lights come on!