The Wonder Years

The Halloween party was a rousing success. Of course, that meant for one really tired me at day’s end, but it was worth it. Em dressed as a dead math teacher and definitely would have won the costume contest if she hadn’t been co-host. J-Man played “Backwards Man.” J-Man’s friends arrived on time, except one, a child whom I shall call Bobby. So, Em’s girlfriends and J-Man’s guy friends were all blending superbly, laughing, giggling, tearing around from thing to thing. Then the doorbell rang. The last guest had arrived. Bobby. Funny how J-Man failed to mention that Bobby was a girl. And a very grown up looking girl at that, and fully 5’10. Athletic and charming, her costume as a tennis player was a perfect choice. The boys seemed to increase their silliness factor ten-fold upon her arrival.

Quickly, we moved to the “games” portion of the party—starting out with “Bobbing for Apples.” Each successive player did better and better until Bobby’s turn arrived. Being very tall, it was a breeze for her to shove her head all the way down and touch the bottom of the tub as she grabbed the apples until she had pulled out five. She was the champion. Up came her head, her hands were untied, and she turned, with a victorious grin splashed across her face. Unfortunately, that was not the only thing that had been splashed—her top had been submerged also, leaving a very wet tennis shirt to contend with (in the places where it would definitely draw attention).

I stood back, a little stunned. My mind reeled—do I say something to her or let it go and hope no one had noticed? She seemed totally oblivious to this new grown-up wet t-shirt look. Torn, I stood back and weighed my options.

Wait, I thought, if I said something, and the boys had already noticed, would I be taking away one of those transcendent and defining moments of puberty that would someday find its way into a wonderful coming-of-age Wonder Years kind of movie if I actually spoke the words? I had little choice—I opted for silence.

Puberty is the sickest joke God plays on us. So you're just noticing members of the sex: "Girls girls, ooo". Naturally you want to look your best, and God says "No! You will look the worst you've ever looked in your life ~ Eddie Izzard

Published on: Nov 1, 2006