If Scott leaves his clothes on the bedroom floor, they stay there. I don’t pick them up and put them in the laundry and wash them for him. To hell with that shit; that would be positive reinforcement of an inconsiderate behaviour (well hey, he’s the one who insists on sharing a bedroom! If I had my own, I couldn’t care less what he covered the floor of his with) that I am not going to respond to by picking up after him, as so many women do, while rolling their eyes.

If the clothes stay there more than a day I grit my teeth and curse him every time I see them; if they stay there much longer I put them in a garbage bag and make them disappear. I know, I’m a cow. But a cow you oughtn’t to mess with. Moo.

Anyway, today a pair of his jeans were laying on the bathroom floor and some damp bathtowels were thrown on top of them and I asked Everett to throw them in the washing machine and Scott’s jeans while he was at it, “and make sure to check the pockets first.”

Scott came upstairs after supper (you’re welcome, darling), snarling and barking, “Did you wash my wallet on purpose?”

Teenagers, eh? I distinctly remember telling Everett to check those pockets, but there is a disconnect in the teenage brain. Everett cannot seem to take in quite all of any instructions he is given. He generally retains about three-quarters of any set of directions, even if they are short and simple.

It is a scientific fact that there is a reason why teenagers can seem so dense sometimes; it’s physical, to do with their brains not completely developed so that they cannot, unlike the adult brain, see the logical consequences of their actions. They do grow out of it, if their frustrated parents let them live long enough.



NP: Everett on his playstation, Emil asking him to get off so he can go in the bedroom and play some music before bed

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