My boy became thirteen this January; a fact he hasn't wasted any time on showing us. He has hit his teens. Life since then has been a constant struggle. The numbers of times I have been called into his principal’s office since then are uncountable, grades have not just fallen but dropped like rocks, and the number of things he has managed to mess up is innumerable. You name it, he has screwed it up. Poor decision making seems to be his talent now.
Last bit of straw was that he lost the house keys yesterday. All of them. You need about 5 keys to enter our house. In an attempt to teach him, we decided he’s paying for the locksmith himself, since we’ve got to change all locks. This is going to be a hefty price. Luckily he’s been saving forever to buy a remote-control helicopter, so he can shell all that cash out in one time. To the locksmith.
Needless to say, boy has been a bit low lately, and I thought I’d perk him up a bit this morning.
“You know A, when I was your age, I was the same. It is just part of growing up," I started, being the wise woman I am.
“Part of screwing up, you mean,” replied A.
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