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We love him to death. He needs to eat every two hours.

He's growing minute by minute.

He gets upset over the littlest things. Every day is a new dawning for him.

No, he's not a toddler.

It's my 13-year-old grandson, T.J.

It's been a while since we had a teenage boy living with us. It's amazing how much we forgot about that experience. Living with one is a constant revelation. His voice is dropping. He's fast growing into manhood, but just enough of the child remains within to make him need a hug every so often.

Life with a teenage boy means never letting him go hungry. This is the grandson who would go all day without eating — while getting grumpier and grumpier, without realizing he's hungry.

Watching T.J. turn from surly to sweet in the time it takes for his sh to recognize that food has arrived is like watching a movie about Jekyll and Hyde. When he is sweet, he is very, very dear, and when he is surly, he is horrid.

When T.J. was 3, he wanted to do things for himself, but he knew he couldn't do it all. Now, 10 years later, he wants to do it all by himself. This is the time in his life when he's striking out, testing the waters of independence. It's letting-go time for us.

His mother warned me, when she dropped him off, not to hover. It's not easy for a doting grandmother to stay at hands-off distance.

For instance, he needed a pair of dress shoes. I told myself, "don't hover." So when we got to the store, I sat quietly, not saying anything, waiting for him to choose a shoe he liked and that fit.

Fitting a growing youth is a tricky proposition. Like Goldilocks, the fit has to be "just right." After an hour of trying on half the shoes in the store, T.J.

found the shoe he liked. The leather was like silk. It fit him beautifully — not too big, not too small. It was time for me to speak.

"How much are the shoes?"

"Three hundred dollars," the clerk said, without blinking an eye. I looked at T.J. and his mouth had dropped open.

He didn't need me to say anything. He went and picked out a different pair of shoes. I was very proud of him. He did his own shopping and I was pleased with myself because I kept quiet and let him do it. It wasn't easy.

But I'm learning.

Yesterday we went to the supermarket to buy some food.

T.J. has his own idea of what he wants to eat. So we split up; he did his food shopping and I did the rest.

By letting him get what he liked to eat meant that today, without any prodding from me, he made his own breakfast and lunch.

Dinner is another story. That's my bailiwick and there's no battleground there.

I'm beginning to get in the swing of things. If T.J. has his independence, I get to have my freedom as well as peace and quiet.

Tomorrow I'm going to suggest that T.J. learn to do his own wash. His idea of putting away his clothes after a few hours of wear is to throw them into the laundry. Less work for grandma is my new motto.

Living with a teenager calls for having an amazing sense of humor and lots of self-control.

It's easy to get into a state of frustration. But when you look at life through the eyes of a teenager, they're feeling the same thing.

We're going to spend the rest of the summer with our teenager.

I'm determined that we enjoy it.

So here are my new rules: Feed 'em. Keep your own counsel.

Hang in there. This too shall pass.

Such is life with a teenager.