sh*t my kids say and do
Mark and I come downstairs from chatting with Taylor. We’ve left Zoey alone for maybe 10 minutes. I’m a bit behind Mark, but as he enters the kitchen, I hear him exclaim – what are you doing?!
And I’m like oh shit. But I’m also hoping it’s blog-worthy. Not gonna lie.
Girlfriend is sitting at the kitchen table, has just cut open (any excuse to use scissors) a brand new bag of shredded mozzarella cheese and is literally shoving heaping handfuls into her mouth… plus MOANING about how good it is. It’s everywhere. And shredded cheese is an asshole. It’s hard to sweep up. Know what I mean? Have you ever tried? It just sort of rolls and balls up because it’s a bit sticky. And even through our parental lecturing/complaining, she just keeps shoveling. And it’s kind of hilarious because I feel like in my younger days I probably came home drunk once or twice and dove into a bag of shredded cheese. But now I’m an adult, so I’d pair it with wine. Anyway, I fist bumped her in my mind because she’s kinda awesome.
Meanwhile, Mark is losing his mind over the fact that she has cut the bag open under the resealable ziplock-type seal. He’s actually like – how are we supposed to close this now?! This, coming from a man who grilled me not one hour before about what our plan is in the event of a zombie apocalypse. (Yes, we have a plan.) My question now becomes – HOW CAN WE HANDLE ZOMBIES IF YOU CAN’T FIGURE OUT HOW TO CLOSE THE CHEESE BAG WITHOUT THE ZIPLOCK SEAL?
Also, do they make child locks for refrigerators?
Taylor is a teenager. Ugh. [Insert eye roll emoji here.] And we’re going through a lying phase.
Long story short, all this kid needed to do was find his assignment notebook (that he left at school over the weekend) and bring it home so that we could check it and make sure it was initialed by all of his teachers. Monday comes – he “forgot” to look for it. Tuesday comes – he found it and brought it home, but it just so happens that the pages we needed to see have been ripped out. By who? We don’t know. But it appears that someone is going around the school and vandalizing the exact pages in assignment notebooks that parents need to see. (Ps. I hope this vandal is getting paid in lunch money or something.) And Taylor is so confused, like – Mom, I know… it’s so weird. Why does this stuff always happen to me?? BULLSHIT. But kinda funny because – teenagers. They think adults are dumb.
But can you imagine?? He’s so worried about getting in trouble. He can’t fathom coming to me and just saying – I screwed up. I forgot again. Instead, HE RIPPED THE PAGES OUT OF THE BOOK! I can’t. It’s not funny, but it is.
I also learned that I’m terrible at analogies. I started talking about – where does it end, Taylor? Let’s say you’re older and you bet on a game and you lose and now you owe some thug $20,000, but you can’t come up with it so you rob a bank. You’re headed for a life of crime. I’ll be visiting you in the slammer, soon. And he’s looking at me and I hear a cricket chirp somewhere and I throw my hands up like – what?? He just shakes his head and tells me to go to bed.
Lies aside, I love him. And that’s the struggle. Convincing your children that even though they’re going to mess up, we still love them. They’ve got to earn respect by being honest and owning up.
He’s still not really talking to me because I took all his electronics away. They’re currently melting in the front seat of my car.
Tuesday Night – after bath.
Zoey is naked and singing the Hokey Pokey. Just when I think we’ve done all the body parts, she performs a pelvic thrust that would put Channing Tatum to shame and proceeds to put her “bagina” in and shake it all about.
I just have to say – she is my mini me, yes. But she didn’t learn this from me. I swear.
“Bagina” though. I can’t.