No Girls Allowed

Jack will be 12 on Friday, and he's needing his mother less and less to manage his room and his stuff. It used to be that I'd go into Jack's room once a week or so and organize his stuff for him -- sports stuff all in one drawer, t-shirts in another, pants in one drawer, shorts in another. I'd get his desk all ready for the week, and put all his books away.

Well, those days are over. Jack now refers to his room as his "Man Cave" and the women in the house require an invitation to enter.

I have seen laundry go in there nice and clean, and when it comes out on Jack's body it appears to be a little messed up and wrinkled. I have seen plates and forks go in there, never to be seen again. Occasionally, Jack walks around the house collecting stuff like rubber bands, string, paper clips, scissors, band-aids, and measuring cups, then disappears into his Man Cave for a few hours. I have no idea what he's doing in there and have adopted a "don't ask, don't tell" policy. I would like to know what happened to my kitchen shears, though. I haven't seen them in months.

Jack seems to be functioning just fine without my intervention. He manages to dress himself in clean (if slightly rumpled) clothing, he always wears underwear, and keeps track of his school stuff with a system only he understands.

In six years or so, when Jack goes off to college, I'm looking forward to an anthropological dig in the Man Cave. I'm hoping my study will lead to a better understanding of the human male teenager. Or at least the discovery of my kitchen shears.

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