Two days ago it was my birthday. I turned 13 years old. That means I am finally a teenager. As Julia and I would say, “Teen lyfe!” (with the “y” in lyfe, sorry Mr. Jockers). I don’t feel any different, but I am glad I am a teenager. Being a “tween” annoyed me so much. Probably because the name “tween”. I also enjoyed my birthday this year, too. I had several friends over and had a sleepover, which was fun. I also got gifts from my family. I got mostly checks, which were put in the bank for me to save for my future. I then had to write a bunch of thank you notes for so many people. They are pretty annoying to write for every person, but my mom and dad insist, and I am thankful I can receive gifts. I now have like seven years to go until I am an adult. Twenty years old. This is basically a new portion of my life, transitioning from my childhood. I guess I am still considered a kid because I go to school, and many people call you a kid until you are an adult. Mostly older people do that, like you are still your parents’ “baby” even if you are 70 years old, and they are 90 years old. You get the point. I wonder if people will think of me differently now, in any way. When the word “teenager” comes to mind, people think “Oh, those rotten teenagers” -Scooby Doo. I also hope that my parents don’t think I’m “capable of much more” and give me more responsibilities. I am really not up for doing more chores than I already do. One thing I got for my birthday was a debit card with all my money on it. I am happy about that because I can shop anywhere without loose change, or a parents card, for online stuff. Now, when the store asks “Credit or debit?” I can fabulously answer “Debit”. To get it, I had to go to the bank and go through a bunch of security stuff. It was worth it, though. I conclude I had a very enjoyable birthday this year, and I hope that continues for my future years.