The apple doesn't fall too far from the tree...
My teenaged son is sporting a mighty fine goose egg on his forehead today. And I know I shouldn’t enjoy it so much, but I just am.
He was running out of school this afternoon and slammed full-on into a locked door. Poor baby; kismet will come around to bite you on the butt every once in a while.
This is the kid who has been the grit in my sandpaper since he was two years old. Somebody stole my sweet, cuddly baby boy, replaced him with this hooligan, and he and I have clashed ever since. I also love him so much it hurts.
But that doesn’t mean it’s not funny that he ran into a door. As much crap as he’s put me through, he’s lucky he didn’t get struck by lightning.
Like so many teenagers, my son is operating on a brain deficiency caused by rampant hormone fluctuations and chronic Know-it-all-itis combined with You-owe-me-osis. He is convinced that attending school 30% of the semester should be sufficient to pass, attending school without any kind of supplies such as a notebook or pen is not only acceptable but desirable, and that his teachers won’t mind if he’s late to every class. Also, sleeping all day has nothing to do with his insomnia.
I have punished, rewarded, argued, pleaded and lectured. The only thing that’s worked – and it’s only beginning to – has been time. Maturing time. He’s almost 19, thank heavens. Maybe I won’t have to kill him.
Meanwhile, I got to enjoy the lump on his head today, even if I didn’t get to put it there myself.
P.S. To all my delightful Trooper pals - especially you, HB - I was just kidding about the speeding thing in yesterday’s post. I would NEVER do that…
He was running out of school this afternoon and slammed full-on into a locked door. Poor baby; kismet will come around to bite you on the butt every once in a while.
This is the kid who has been the grit in my sandpaper since he was two years old. Somebody stole my sweet, cuddly baby boy, replaced him with this hooligan, and he and I have clashed ever since. I also love him so much it hurts.
But that doesn’t mean it’s not funny that he ran into a door. As much crap as he’s put me through, he’s lucky he didn’t get struck by lightning.
Like so many teenagers, my son is operating on a brain deficiency caused by rampant hormone fluctuations and chronic Know-it-all-itis combined with You-owe-me-osis. He is convinced that attending school 30% of the semester should be sufficient to pass, attending school without any kind of supplies such as a notebook or pen is not only acceptable but desirable, and that his teachers won’t mind if he’s late to every class. Also, sleeping all day has nothing to do with his insomnia.
I have punished, rewarded, argued, pleaded and lectured. The only thing that’s worked – and it’s only beginning to – has been time. Maturing time. He’s almost 19, thank heavens. Maybe I won’t have to kill him.
Meanwhile, I got to enjoy the lump on his head today, even if I didn’t get to put it there myself.
P.S. To all my delightful Trooper pals - especially you, HB - I was just kidding about the speeding thing in yesterday’s post. I would NEVER do that…
posted by Cas at 11:10 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home