A child care center in Flayosc. Seems like yesterday that my son went to the crèche… read on in today’s column.

ado (adoh) noun,
masculine, feminine
: teen

(short for un(e) adolescent =
teenager)

Note: the audio file feature will return on Monday.
.

Does “ado” mean adieu to childhood?

There is something in the air around here and it smells like Adieu,
like goodbye to a time and a place; fleeting and fading… like freckles on a
child’s face.

It has me dragging my legs to bed while the sun is still
shining, or putting too much symbolism into the shape of the odd cloud that
floats by my bedroom window. The angst, though passagère,* is palpable,
present as a foreign fragrance in the air.

“Do you smell something
rotting here?” I ask the boys while rooting around for the culprit, who I
suspect is hiding in these kitchen drawers. I wonder about the strange scent:
is it a rat’s adieu that I am sensing? And yet…the mouse traps are
empty….

Max and his friend, Jack, shake their heads, a bit disappointed
to have missed a rotting-rodent sighting.

“No, there’s nothing there,
Mom.” Max confirms. “No mice,” Jack seconds.
“Are you sure?” I question,
giving the kitchen drawers a good tug while searching for the source of the
odor.

The boys insist that they can’t smell a thing, and I notice how they
slip out of the kitchen lest they catch the foul fever that has seized
me.

Surely the smell of something “turning” pervades the air? Oh well. I
shut the drawers with a heavy sigh and return to the heap of children’s
clothing that needs sorting. As the giveaway pile grows, that palpable,
perfumed something returns….

I pull one of the little t-shirts close
and breathe in the scent of Nine-Years-Old. How long has he had this t-shirt?
Four years? It was oversized to begin with and now it is easily too small for
my son. Why haven’t I given it away yet?

I set the shirt aside and
curl up into a chair. Staring out the window, I notice the clouds pass even
faster than the years have. I get up, turn my back on the clouds, and search
the drawers again; this time for sweets. I am going to make a cake and quit
staring at Time.

Later that night, my ears perk up when my son calls for
me. “Give me a kiss goodnight, Mom?”
“You bet!” I say, wondering whether this
might be the next-to-last time he asks.

“You know,” I remind my son,
pushing a lock of hair out of his face. “You are still a kid.”
“Yes,
mom… I am still twelve.”

Suddenly, the air seems a little lighter,
sweeter….
“And you will still be a kid when you turn thirteen….” I remind
him.
Max offers a doubtful look.
“No, Mom,” Max argues. “I’ll be a
teenager.”

That sweetness lingers for a moment before the scent molecules
rearrange themselves once again, putting a bit of spice into their chemical
makeup. I now understand what I have been sensing all along, and while I may
have mixed feelings about it, one thing’s sure: It smells like teen
spirit.*

*     *     *

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~References~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
passagère = brief, passing; Smells Like Teen Spirit = song by the former rock group Nirvana

ÇA
SENT L’ESPRIT ADO

(select lyrics)

Je me sens stupide et
contagieux
Nous voici maintenant, amuse-nous
un mulâtre, un albinos
un
moustique, ma libido
…Ouais

SMELLS LIKE TEEN SPIRIT

I feel
stupid and contagious
Here we are now, entertain us
A mullato, an
albino
A mosquito, my libido
…Yeah