Happy voices are coming from my kitchen�with the exception of the one time I heard, �Idiot, Mr. Philately, idiot!� coming from Mr. Philately who apparently did not like his chess move. I�d love to join them but I can�t. You see, the happiness changes when I go in there. I�ve proved it several times tonight. The second I go in, the pity-party begins. For some reason, my teenager is out to prove to me that she�s depressed. She�s not depressed, however, as long as I�m not in the room. In my book, that makes her depressing, not depressed so I�m staying put out here in the living room. Darn teenagers anyway!

One way to look at it, I suppose, is that I matter. I must matter if I have so much power that my mere presence completely changes the tone and the atmosphere. The change is not instantaneous. It takes a while for a teenager to work herself up if her heart�s only partly in it. The heart of the problem, to the extent there really is a problem, appears to be that she is angry with her Global History teacher and they canceled stage crew because of the first 8th grade orientation meeting at the high school. If anyone out there knows why this anger manifests itself in my presence and not her father�s, please let me know.

It got so bad right before dinner that I just looked at her and said, �I can�t work in this atmosphere.� She didn�t leave so I did. Mr. Philately, who was home early because we had had to pick up the van from surgery, sweetly offered to make dinner. I left the room and all of a sudden the teenager was charming, funny, and delightful. I know because I could hear it even before I got to the door of my own room. I�m a success---as an absentee parent. The good news is that I did not have to make dinner.

Most of the time, living with my teenager is delightful. She�s funny, she�s interesting, and I can really talk with her about important subjects. She�ll even play with me a bit. I suppose I should count my blessings�but I can�t because they are in the other room and they�ll pout if I come near.

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