Friday, December 30, 2011

Choose Your Words Carefully

The #1 son has been driving me crazy this week. Not that he's been home all that much. He actually rises before the crack of noon, and then goes to his grandma's house, and from there to a local basketball tournament. It's the short time that we're confined in the Mansion together that gives me fits.

Wherever I am, that's where #1 is. I swear, he's as bad as his dad. If I sit in the living room, he plops on the couch. Not to have a meaningful conversation. Just to complain about what channel I put the TV on, or to blurt out words of wisdom during a critical quote on my show. Or he's forcing his laptop screen into my face to admire a photo he's taken with his outrageously expensive camera, or shoving his phone under my nose to illustrate some crony faux pas that garnered ridicule.

Yesterday, I was trying to make a cup of ice water. I do it every day. But #1 suddenly needed a cup of ice water at the same time. He stood behind me, tapping his bare, sweaty foot. "You're going to take all the ice!"

I moved to the sink. I turned on the water and held my cup of ice under the stream. #1 thrust his cup above mine, blocking the torrent. "Stop that! I was here first!"


"Get away. I'm getting water."

"Not now, you're not. I'll be done in a minute."

Another time, I came in from picking him up lunch in town to see him wash his hands and sling water all over the kitchen.

"Hey! Stop it!"

"Stop what?"

"You know better. Get a paper towel."

"I don't need one. They're dry now. Besides, we're out."

"Get a roll out of the pantry."

"All right!"

"And don't let me catch you doing that again."

"Doing what?"

"You know what. You slang water all over the floor!"

"Ha! Whaaaat?"

"Don't deny it. You slang it. I saw it with my own two eyes. And don't even try to tell me there's no such word as "slang"!"

"Ha, ha. I know "slang" is a word. But not like that."

"I'll use it how I want. And don't you forget it."

Sometimes, it's tedious to have a 34 on the ACT living under your Mansion roof.


Chickadee said...

Ugh. That's worse than having a cat who decides to walk right in front of you or right under your feet, or better yet, who decides to plop itself right in front of the doorway you're about to enter.

Chivimi said...

Maybe you should go on strike to teach them a lesson. They seem pretty sure that you are going to be there when they want you/something done. Maybe they would appreciate you better if you took a few days off and left them to fend for themselves.

Hillbilly Mom said...

At least he doesn't climb up my leg and torso and sit ON TOP OF MY HEAD. Like our very first cat, a stray that found us.

Well, if they could remember to breathe in, breathe out on their own, that might work.

Kathy's Klothesline said...

I have always said there should be an island called Puberty where they all go until they are "done" with all the silliness of growing up. The teen years suck, you don't like them, they don't like you. They will not appreciate you until they have teens of their own!

Hillbilly Mom said...

Only this morning, I told him, "You deserve a kid just like yourself! That's what you deserve!"

Okay, so I'm can't always be witty in the heat of the moment.