As he was dressing for school, my oldest son noticed that the slacks to his uniform had a huge hole in the crotch. "Um, Dad? Either my parts are growing bigger ... or my pants are falling apart." Hubs chokes on his coffee, while I scramble -- blind from laughing and crying -- to fix them. My Mom however, isn't phased. With a straight face, she pats her grandson on the back: "You sure you want Mom to fix those? After all, it's supposed to get warm today. You might need the extra air conditioning for those bigger parts." "No, Grandma! If I go to school with them like that, the girls will see me and then I'll really be in trouble!" ... yeah. That magic hormonal number Twelve is so looming in our future.