By DERRICK BARNES
I think, on average, that ten is the cut-off age.
It’s around that time that boys begin to almost completely lose the innocence that we secretly wish that they could retain a sliver of; you know, just enough to continue to be inquisitive, creative, and oozing with zeal and optimism. But not so much that they’ll be swindled, bamboozled, and hood winked by every Peter Popoff waiting around the corner.
Ten is the prepubescent calm before the pimply, metal-mouthed, squeaky voiced, embarrassing involuntary erection, peach-fuzzed storm. It’s before they start to believe that they can really take their old man; they’ll think they can beat you in a wrestling match, push-up and chin-up contests, they’ll think they can belch with a deeper and more manly presence. And probably, most disturbing, from what I’ve observed from my buddies with older, teen sons is that somehow, these little rascals start to believe that they know just as much as you do. Just months ago you were the coolest guy in their world. Now, you might as well be Steve Urkel’s drooling, cock-eyed, smelly step-brother, Lee Lee Urkel. Read more…