Note to the mothers of adorable, chubby-cheeked, baby-blue-wearing Thomas-the-Tank-Engine-loving little boys.
Nothing is going to get on your last nerve like the sound of your son's completely unmodulated, grating, cracking, is-it-up-or-is-it-down-please-I'm-begging-you-make-up-
your-mind adolescent male voice.
It will somehow manage to SEEM REALLY LOUD no matter where it's coming from: right next to you at the dinner table? Three rooms away? In the basement when you're on the second floor? It won't matter. It's OMNIPRESENT.
And? It will constantly remind you that CHANGES ARE OCCURRING. In case the fuzz on the upper lip and the giraffe-like height haven't already clued you in.
It's like living with a fog horn. That tells really bad jokes.
Just thought you'd like to know.