TheBanyanTree: "Kill the boy"

[Laura]

Last night was a Kill The Boy night.  Bill Cosby fans among you will
recognize that quote. For those of you who are not fans, it is taken from a
bit Bill does about coming home to an angry wife, and when told he is to "go
upstairs and KILL THAT BOY", replies, "yes, yes... kill the boy, kill the
boy!"  He's just glad it's not him at whom she is angry.

I have a 16 year old, just getting ready to turn 17, and he has become
smarter than everyone else, stronger than everyone else, and invincible to
boot.  What he isn't, is responsible, though he assures me that he most
certainly IS.  Both my boys have lists of chores to be done, hanging on the
refrigerator.  How difficult is it to glance at the chart when you're
getting into the fridge for the 100th time that day?  I would think it
wasn't all that difficult, but apparently my mind is going, and I'm too
stupid to understand.

Yesterday, when he was supposed to be doing schoolwork, I kept hearing
tic-tic-tic-tic.  I looked around to see him texting instead of schooling.
I told him to stop texting, and start schooling, or I was taking the phone
away.  He texted at least twice more, claiming he was telling his friends
that he couldn't text any more.

Last night, at half-past midnight, I had a thought, and checked outside.
Nope, the trash bin was still sitting out by the curb.  The trash had been
picked up at 6:30 am, so the empty bin had been sitting out by the street
for 18 hours, but the party responsible for taking it around back couldn't
be bothered yesterday, it seems.  He's too busy texting on the phone which
is supposed to be used for letting me know he's gotten done with class
early, or the party is over and he needs a ride, or the church is burning
down and he'd like to come home.  Instead, he's using it to spend all his
time texting, then going to bed without doing any of his chores (and really,
three chores a day is not that many, in my humble opinion!), and leaving
them all for me to do.  Sure, I can do them, but the point is that he should
be participating in the operation of this household, not being waited on
hand and foot like some royal bastard.

I got pretty hot under the collar, stomped down the hall and BANGED on his
door.  "YOU NEED TO GET UP AND TAKE THE TRASH BIN AROUND!" I screamed, and
stomped back down the hall, muttering under my breath.

A few minutes later, his highness came slumping, zombie-like, down the hall,
slipped on some shoes (it's 15 degrees F here, so even invincible teenagers
put shoes on to go out), and shuffled out the front door.  He had neglected
to unlock the back door, so he had to bang on it.  Fortunately for him, his
Dad was there to open it, because I sure as hell was not going to let the
little ingrate back in. If he's too stupid to remember to unlock the door
before he goes out, he can bloody well walk back around to the front to get
in.

A few minutes later, I went in to clean the kitchen and get ready for bed. I
saw that the dishwasher had not been unloaded. This is another of His
Highness' chores that was supposed to have been done.  Rather than have to
face the boy, because I might have strangled him, I started unloading the
dishwasher myself, muttering obscenities, and blamming and slamming cabinets
and dishes as I went.

My husband came in and asked if there was anything he could do to help.  I
told him no, to just stay out of the way.  He quietly slipped out of the
kitchen.  Then I heard him say, "I know what I can do to help!"  I said,
"You gonna go in there and KILL THAT BOY?"  "Well," he said, "that wasn't my
first thought, but I'll take it under consideration."

Lucky kid.  He was still alive this morning, and I managed to let him get to
class and come back home before he got the multi-lecture about
responsibility to the household, and responsibility to school, and
responsibility with his electronics, and his responsibility to learn time
management.

I'm pretty sure he'd have rather been killed than have to listen to the
lecture.

-- 
Laura
wolfljsh at gmail.com
http://wolfsinger.wordpress.com