by Phil Callaway
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I’ve been thinking a lot about teenagers now that we have three of them hanging around the house eyeing our car keys. For the most part I love parenting teenagers. Sure we have to replace the fridge light bulb more frequently, and I haven’t controlled the remote or the telephone for months. But I love these years, I really do. I think it helps that I remember being a teen myself.
I am so old that I can remember way back when the boys chased the girls. But something happened a few short years ago: The roles reversed. Girls began chasing boys. Aggressively. Like hungry lionesses preying on limping antelope. They started yelling out car windows at them and calling them on telephones. Fathers began greeting these calls with the same enthusiasm we reserve for telemarketers. “You’d like to speak with my son?” we say. “I am sorry, he is on a trip to Zimbabwe where he is marrying a local girl.” The caller does not laugh at this point. In fact, she calls back later: “Is this Edna?” we ask. “Or Diane or Sarah? There are so many, I get you mixed up.”
Since my sons are both receiving calls from lovely girls who I am sure will make fine wives for someone in twenty or thirty years, I have decided to issue this short edict to help them increase their chances of that someone being one of my children. Though shorter than Martin Luther’s 95 Theses, I believe this is worth nailing to the front door. I will be doing this myself later today. With an electric staple gun.
Rule One: If you would like to talk with my son, please do this in the church foyer during the fellowship hour when the lights are on. Remember to bring your family Bible.
Rule Two: If you call my house to talk with my son, your call could be monitored by our customer service department.
Rule Three: My son is sixteen. The following locations and activities are acceptable for your date:
Rule Four: If you would like to hang out with my son, you will have to put up with me. I am out on a weekend pass and I am unsure of what I will do or say next.
Rule Five: My son cannot use my minivan to drive you to a mall. The van is already booked that year.
Rule Six: Please do not touch my son. Do not lean against him unless you are falling over and are in danger of injuring yourself or plunging off a cliff. Do not even pull lint from his ear. I have been trying to do this for years and he will not let me. He can do this himself.
Rule Seven: I am aware that it is considered fashionable for girls your age to wear Britney Spears t-shirts that do not reach their low-slung pants or necklines that sink lower than the Canadian dollar. My wife and I have discussed this and since we want to be fair and open-minded about it, you are free to show up in such attire. My wife will affix it properly to your body with a glue gun.
Rule Eight: Above all else, please remember that we’ve been praying for this boy since before God gave him breath, and we will continue to. If you’re The One, we’ve been praying for you too. And, in all seriousness, when he chooses a girl, we will be happier than Mr. and Mrs. Turtle when they finally exited Noah’s Ark.
PS: If you are a teenage girl who has read this and still has a smile on your face, go ahead and call. Our number is 1-800-321. If you somehow get through, just remember that your call may be monitored by our Customer Service Department.
Phil Callaway is a best-selling author and popular speaker.
Visit him at www.philcallaway.com
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