My thirteen year old is driving me nuts at the moment!
I’m sure I’m not giving away any secrets here when I say boys of this age seem to struggle at life most mornings. Specifically, Mondays to Fridays.
“It’s time,” I said, sticking my head into Master13’s room this morning. He jumped up in much the same way a brick doesn’t, so I added, “It’s seven-thirty, buddy. Let’s go.”
A groan and a twitch told me my message had been heard and resented.
Because I’ve been an energetic teenage boy, and know how stiff you can wake up some mornings from around that age, I walked out and gave him time to think about dead cats.
I chased the smaller girls out of their beds accepted a coffee from Tracey. I was boiling the kettle for a second cup of sanity before I had my head in his doorway again. His shrug was still where I’d seen it land minutes earlier.
“Mate,” I said in a no nonsense tone, “it’s time to get moving.”
Mate is our secret ‘shits gonna get real’ codeword with the kids.
“Okay,” he lied.
Ten minutes later I noticed his absence in the kitchen so I stomped back over to his room.
“Right. You happy? I’m raising my voice now,” I asked, raising my voice and turning one the light before taking three stompy-steps to the window and opening the blinds.
“Da-aad!” Master13 said, as though I was violating something in the Geneva Convention. No doubt a cease and desist notice is in the mail even as I type.
“Why does it always need to get to this before you move your bum?” I demanded of him. “Do you like being yelled at?”
I resisted the urge to tear the doona off him but I was thinking I might come in with a spray bottle nest time. I seemed to remember that always got the cats moving. But less than a minute later he slothed into the kitchen in his briefs.
“You need to make your own lunch this morning,” I reminded him.
“Can you do it for me?” he asked. Then he saw my face. “Joking. I’m just gonna say good morning to Mum.”
This put a smile on my face because I knew Tracey would love that. I told him I thought that was a great idea but he had to crack on or we’d be late leaving: we’ve started walking to school together this week because I’m on a mission to lose fifteen kilo by Christmas.
Still sleep-drunk, he bounced off the fridge and our doorframe before disappearing into our room.
Because I’m a sucker for when my kids do nice or cute things, I decided to make his lunch for him after all. I was just gathering up some fruit and deciding between adding a juice cup or a bag of bickies when Tracey emerged from the bathroom.
“Oh, you’re up?” I said…
…and then the penny dropped.
I swung into our room to find our dopey son fast asleep in our bed all by himself.
To top it off, when we went to walk to school the bugger suggested we take the car because otherwise he might be late.
I explained it was – you won’t be surprised to learn – a risk I was prepared to take. Mate.
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