I am talking about living with my wild, raunchy son. He is fifteen now, but the signs started around twelve. If you are currently hiding a bottle of wine in the laundry room because your son just asked you what "fisting" means after a bus ride home, pull up a chair. You are not alone. Let’s rewind. My son, "Jake," used to hold my hand in the grocery store. Now, he walks three paces behind me wearing headphones so loud I can hear the bass drop. He doesn’t speak; he grunts. And when he does speak? It sounds like a sailor with Tourette’s started a podcast.
Last Tuesday, I asked him to take out the trash. He sighed like I had asked him to solve a quadratic equation. When he finally moved, he muttered something under his breath involving a barn animal and a body part that I didn’t even know existed anatomically. my wild raunchy son
By age 17 or 18, the testosterone levels begin to stabilize. The frontal lobe starts to catch up. They begin to realize that being a "wild, raunchy son" doesn't get you a date to prom; it gets you a reputation you don't want. I am talking about living with my wild, raunchy son