There is a specific, magical kind of chaos that comes with having what I lovingly call “Teen Bubs.” You know the phase I’m talking about. They aren’t infants anymore, but they definitely aren’t independent big kids yet. They are the strange, wonderful, sticky-fingered hybrids of toddlerhood and the tween years.
They want to wear neon green crocs with a formal dress? Let them. They want to make a "slime lab" on the new coffee table? Put down a tarp and say yes. Their creativity is peaking, and this is the last window where they don't care if it looks silly. teen bubs
When they stomp off to their room because you said no to a second hour of Roblox, let them have five minutes. Then go in with a snack. Food is the universal translator for the teen bub. They will forget why they were mad by the time they finish the goldfish. There is a specific, magical kind of chaos
April 14, 2026
So, put your phone down. Watch the cringey TikTok dance they want to show you. Buy the extra pack of chicken nuggets. Ignore the attitude and see the anxiety underneath. They want to wear neon green crocs with a formal dress