Recently I was hanging out enjoying the company of my son and his friend Dennis. Dennis is a great kid but most of the time I can’t understand a word he says. Dennis’s unintelligible blather and my frequent requests for translation reminded me of a piece I wrote several years ago when my son and his friends were just entering their teenage years.
My son, 'Little Bean,' has finally turned into a teenager and become 'Big Bean.' There are so many changes I felt I had to document a few of the more interesting ones.
Of course he has grown taller than his father. This is a source of endless entertainment for Big Bean. He now enjoys activities like resting his chin on his father’s head, declaring, 'Oh my! Your so little daddy!' Now—Daddy is 'Little Bean'.
There is one disturbing trend. My son has started mumbling a lot more lately even though we've always stressed good communication habits and proper pronunciation. When he was in pre-school he started dropping his r’s. Granted we live in the Boston area so he is exposed to the 'Bahston' accent on a daily basis. 'Park' became 'pahhk' and car became 'cahh.' Having grown up with a father who was a radio personality I was determined that no child of mine would decimate the English language but explanations like, ‘You’re hurting poor R’s feelings when you don’t pronounce it,’ had no effect. Not until I told him ‘You won’t be able to run as fast if you don’t pronounce your R’s,’ did he take heed. Lovely letter R came back with a vengeance.
All of the sudden, these carefully scripted lessons have sailed out the window and I am left with someone speaking a new and unintelligible language. I’ve coined it 'Teenagese.' Apparently (I’ve done my research), it’s an ancient language, passed on from generation-to-generation of teenagers, mostly while standing at urinals in the school bathroom. My research shows there are even cave paintings illustrating Teenagese early beginnings. Back then they didn’t have urinals, a rock sufficed.
‘Can adults understand it?’ you ask.
‘NO WAY JOSÉ!’
As teenagers, adults used to speak it but through some secret process it’s been erased from our memories (it has nothing to do with multiple bong-hits) and been replaced with snoring. We have no recollection of our Teenagese years— and it’s probably better that way.
I walked into my kitchen the other day to see my son sitting at the computer with a couple of his friends. My first thought: 'Not again! Their speaking Teenagese!'
Big Bean is looking intently at the computer screen and emphatically declares, 'Blah bler mam patt buh suh!' Since the NFL website was up I imagine the conversation had something to do with football. But, who knows?
What’s a clueless mother to do? While I’m busy trying to extract some sense from this conversation—teenagers know I’ve forgotten my Teenagese so they aren’t worried in the least—they’re going on their merry way chatting about God knows what, and most likely it isn’t good.
The irony of all this is that when they are compelled to swear (which comprises roughly 50% of the conversation)—guess what?— It comes out CLEAR AS DAY.
‘Mush mush bacha pa somthn fo FUCKING a mofo!’
It’s kinda crazy when you think about it. Parents are forever reprimanding their children for swearing, saying things like, ‘Johnnie! That language is inappropriate.’
You’d think that if teenagers can come up with a secret language, they could incorporate some swears in there too. I’m sure it has something to do with passive aggressive tendencies, teenage rebellion, and other things that cause adults to cringe and wring their hands in despair. Looking on the bright side—and I’m a glass half-full gal—at least there’s one word in there that we adults can understand. We may not want to hear it but that’s beside the point.
Parent's take heart!
Teenagese, like acne and other artifacts of your child's teenage years, shall pass. Most likely by the time your child goes off to college. They'll be back to speaking good 'ole english, asking you for money, the car, a new laptop and stuff like that. So just be patient and enjoy every mumbly moment with your child.
My last word on this subject: “A gome is mush mush ist badd SHIT!”
