There comes a time in every parent’s life when their sweet, innocent child transforms seemingly overnight. One day, they’re running to you with sticky hands and big hugs, and the next, they’re locked in their room, emerging only for snacks and Wi-Fi resets.

I always thought I had a few more years before the teenage attitude kicked in. Maybe around 13? 14? Nope. Turns out, my son skipped the awkward pre-teen stage and went straight to “I’m too cool for you, Dad” mode.

Signs My Son is Secretly a Teenager

1. The Eye Roll & Sigh Combo

Every time I ask him to do literally anything—pause his game, come downstairs, breathe—it’s met with the classic teenage sigh. You know the one. The deep, exaggerated, full-body sigh that’s basically his way of saying, “Why do I have parents? This is so unfair.”

Followed immediately by the eye roll. At this point, I think his eyeballs get more exercise than the rest of his body.

2. The Three-Call Rule for Dinner

Gone are the days when calling him for dinner meant an excited dash to the table. Now? I have to call him three times minimum before he even acknowledges me. The first two calls are completely ignored. The third gets me a “DADDY STOP” shouted from behind his closed bedroom door, as if my request to eat food that I cooked is a massive inconvenience to his Fortnite career.

3. Fortnite, Roblox, and Screaming at Friends Online

Speaking of Fortnite, my house now sounds like a live esports event 24/7. He’s in his room, headset on, yelling things like:

• “REVIVE ME, BRO!”

• “HE’S ONE SHOT, HE’S ONE SHOT!”

• “WHY DID YOU PUSH? THAT WAS STUPID!”

The best part? Half the time, I don’t even think he knows who he’s playing with. He could be screaming at his real-life best friend or some random 40-year-old man from Leeds. Who knows.

4. Playing Games Together is a Disaster

Every now and then, I try to bond by playing FIFA with him. Big mistake.

It always starts the same: he’s overconfident, talking rubbish like he’s the undisputed champion of the world. “You have NO chance, Bro.”

Then, I actually beat him.

Cue the dramatic meltdown. Suddenly, the game is unfair, my controller is cheating, and I “only won because I got lucky.” Next thing I know, he’s rage-quitting, sulking in his room, and I’m left wondering if I should’ve just let him win to avoid the drama.

5. The Reluctant Chore Performer

If I ever want to see the greatest display of physical and emotional suffering, all I have to do is ask him to clean his room.

It’s a five-step performance:

1. The sigh. (Obviously.)

2. The “Ughhh, whyyyyy?”

3. The slow, painful shuffle towards his room like he’s being led to the gallows.

4. The “I’ll do it later!”

5. And finally, him stuffing everything under the bed instead of actually cleaning.

Mission accomplished. Kind of.

The Final Straw: He Calls Me “Bro”

At some point, my son decided I am no longer Dad. I am now “Bro.”

No warning. No transition period. Just straight to “Bro.”

Example:

Me: “Hey buddy, can you pick up your dirty clothes?”

Him: “Bro, chill.”

Buddy?! BRO?! I didn’t spend years changing nappies, losing sleep, and watching Paw Patrol on repeat just to be demoted to BRO.

Conclusion: I Am Not Ready

I thought I had a few more years before this nonsense started. But no, my 10-year-old is already in full teenage rebellion mode.

Pray for me.

Any other parents out there dealing with a mini-teenager? Let me know in the comments so we can suffer together.