Kids, No Choice but to Love Him

Last night he told me he was tired of me interfering in his life. It was the end of a long string of him wanting to slide. Not hang his coat on a hanger, preferring to leave it on the end of the bar. Not put his boots on the mat. Not put the printouts about all the species in Pinata Island in alphabetical order before putting them in the shared binder (to the point where I almost tore them up, and he let me put them in order then printed a label for the binder saying “Mine Only”.)

After I got back from groceries, he was a bit better. We made up by the end, and I mentioned that living together isn’t 50/50, it’s 100/100. (He really likes talking about percentages.) And I told him he had to practise alphabetical order until he passes a test, likely 9 Scrabble tiles in 30 seconds. (He really doesn’t know the alphabet except from the beginning.)

Today I went to the school assembly to watch daughter sing. Son won the “Starfish draw”. (Little “pats on the back”, put into a monthly draw.) He chose … hockey tickets. Sigh. Much as I enjoy getting out with the family, that’s got to be one of the most boring events. They bug us for the food, and then ignore most of the game. (Me, I had a hard time putting my book down after the intermission.) I guess it’s good that he chose a family event (I think he thinks it’s tickets for the family, so we’ll check with him, and likely fork over enough to make it a family event), but I’d prefer a day at the zoo or a local fun farm.

Ah, well. Gotta love him.

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