Animals Eat Their Young
“You might have won this battle, woman. But you haven’t won the war.” This is the boy’s newest catch phrase. Sometimes his teenagedness takes control and he thinks about arguing with me. Most of the time, I verbally beat him down and smite him with my motherly verbal sword.
I explain “why?” I tell “when?” I show “how?” yet these questions always find a way into our conversations. I’ve read that teenagers are the reason animals eat their young. I’m starting to think there’s some truth to that. How many variations are there for an explanation?
“Mom, can you take me and Brad to the movie theater tonight?”
“Because your dad is going to be home tonight and we already have plans.”
“The same plans we’ve had for the last week, son.”
“Why can’t I go to the movies instead?”
Before you readers pop a vein in your skulls, I’ll end the dialog there. That doesn’t mean it actually stops at this point all of the time, however. Sure, sometimes I snap and say those words I vowed to never say, “Because I said so!” I’ve learned that is the frustrated answer parents give. My poor folks must have been all sorts of fucked up because of us kids. They used that line a lot.
I had this crazy notion about kids. I thought once they made it through the terrible twos, the questioning of why would end or at least subside. That’s the trouble with all of these parenting books and magazines, they allow us
suckers parents to think if we can get through the terrible twos, it’s clear sailing from there.
I realize my battle could be one of cigarettes, drugs, alcohol or sex, which is what I keep reminding myself as I feel like my head is going to explode. Most of the time, I am quick to win the battle. But every once in a while I feel like I should make some type of deal with the little shit because his questions and way of bugging me are a welcome compared to some trouble kids his age face. It’s almost like rewarding him for not being a stoner.
“I’ll take you and Brad to the theater Friday.”
It’s like giving in, caving in, Deal or No Deal, Let’s Make a Deal. And I end up picking curtain number two with a goat who incidentally has dropped a pile of turds and appears to be smiling about it. Does anyone else remember that show? Watching it I’d think, where would we put a goat if we won one? I never saw it as a terrible prize. I mean, sure, it wasn’t a Brand-New-Car, but it was still pretty cool.
If anyone needs us, the goat and I will be sitting outside of the theater tonight. I’ll be the one dressed up in the jackass costume.
Have a great weekend!