Did you know? I’m 12 now. That’s right. 12. Old right? Right. In being 12 I think that I should be allowed to do things that 21 year olds can do, because I want to, and my mother can’t stop me. Because I am 12, that means I have 12 years experience, which is more than approximately 5% of the population. That’s right. I am more mature and grown up than a decent amount of people. That means I should be able to drink, smoke, party, do drugs and go out later than 4. I mean seriously. Have you ever been generally annoyed by us, twelvies? Apart from the obnoxious bunch on the bus, and those who walk in the middle of the pavement, we’re not really annoying.
Yesterday my mother tried to tell me to unstack the dishwasher. Does she realize how old I am? I responded with a simple “I’m 12 now mum I can do what I want.” She responded in disgust, asking why I would say something like that. I just nodded. Because I was 12. I was entitled to my own opinion.
Today I went to my mother’s, friends, daughters party. She was 17. Obviously I was cooler than her, I mean. I was 12 after all. I was told to sit at the kiddies table. Did I let that slide? Nopeee! I explained to her how old I was and how I was superior. They want me to sit with the 3 year olds because I was what? Below them on the age spectrum by only a few years? Eventually they persuaded me with large amounts of orange juice. I sat down at the table with the ‘Under-aged’ kids. I looked upon the younger peasants knowing that I was the superior being at this table. I wondered if they knew how old I was. I considered telling them but then realised that they were too young to understand. Can’t you agree with me?
They treat me like I’m only 11!
Another reason to let my kind roam the streets is because we can develop friendships without annoying our parents. We would be in large groups and would not trash the streets like disgusting ‘teenagers.’
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