Parenting on the edge of the teens

My older son will be 13 next month. In less than three weeks, actually.Hold me, I'm scared.We had our first taste of pre-teen insanity about a year ago when one particularly difficult morning he declared, "I don't want to live here anymore! I want to go to boarding school!"He didn't even know what boarding school was, but he knew he wanted to go there. Of course, his younger brother (by two years), got upset and started crying that he didn't want his brother to leave and go to boarding school and not live here anymore.I held the line and said I just wanted us to get to the bus stop and we could talk about boarding school at the end of the day. Somehow we got out of the house on time and to the bus stop and all was well. And the upshot? By day's end, he didn't even remember having that meltdown in the morning and was happy as a clam.Boarding school has never come up again, for what it's worth. Though, some mornings, I've kind of longed for it.Over the past year, mornings have become more and more difficult. He's got a lot of homework and sometimes stays up rather late to finish. Often, in fact. We've started setting a stricter bedtime and told him we don't care if his homework isn't done - he's going to bed. Maybe we should have done that earlier, but it was hard to argue with him about getting to bed when he was fighting to stay up so he could finish his homework, you know?Then he busts out with these utterly sweet, pre-teen love-snuggle sessions. He wants my husband and I to snuggle in bed with him one at a time at night to talk about stuff and laugh at jokes. He likes talking to us about politics and Doctor Who and xBox games and Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy - and anything else that comes to mind.And then comes morning.Turn the light on. Snuggle him. Ask him to get up. Pull one blanket off. Try to pry the other blanket off. Pull his socks and pajama pants off (with his full cooperation, I might add - I often ask him if I'm gonna have to come to college to help him get dressed in the morning). Slip his pants on. Ask him to take his shirt off. Tell him to take his shirt off. Try to take his shirt off. Fight with him to take his shirt off. Eventually shirt gets taken off and he insists on buttoning up his school shirt under the covers.He's turned into a vampire, hissing if he sees the light of day before he's decided he's ready.Some days it goes relatively smoothly after that and only takes half an hour to get him out of bed and downstairs to eat breakfast. Often we must threaten to take away weekend video game and TV privileges. Fridays are easier because it's "videogame Friday," the only weekday they are allowed video games, and if he doesn't behave that morning, he knows he can't earn them back.I know this is only the beginning, and I think back to my teenage years and fear how much more there is to come.Then I look back at photos from four years ago and see the curly-headed moppet and wonder where this sweet, funny little boy went.Then I look at my taller, lithe, grinning imp of a boy who likes nothing more than to snuggle up to me and talk about Marvin the Depressed Robot from Hitchhikers and I know it'll all be OK.Right?Photo by Kevo Thomson via Flickr Creative Commons.