There are many reasons Ross and I aren’t yet ready to raise a child. But even more than some of our fallback responses, the idea of being responsible for a teen, tween or any variation thereof is somewhat terrifying. Not because I know of any particularly difficult examples, but because of things like this:
To quote the girlfriend I was out shopping with when our eyes were so viciously assaulted:
“When I have a teenage girl I’d really prefer her not to wear denim underwear in public.”
Husband, Wife and Modern Life 
i can just hear my dad’s voice in my head looking at that picture, “is that a belt?”
(to clarify…this would be when I was shopping with my father–RevD is kind of hip–and we’d make fun of the tweeny-bop trends…yeah, I’m *that* girl)