Sometimes I realize that I may not be completely honest in my depiction of my oldest child. I mean, don’t get me wrong, the guy is completely awesome in every way. But – I neglect to tell the typical stories that parents of teenagers have – so sometimes it seems like he’s just too perfect. I don’t tell those stories because I have too much respect for him and don’t want him to one day ask me to take this site down. And then I’d have to choose between my blog and my child. And that’s not a good place to be.
(Kidding! Child would totally win! I swear! Child does chores, blog does not. Easy call.)
But this week? My son did such a stereotypical teenage thing, I just have to share it.
I wake him and his siblings up at the same time. 5:45am. I wake him up and then I get his brother and sister ready for school and feed them breakfast while he grumpily drags himself to the shower and back to his room to get dressed. I usually don’t glimpse him until he goes to grab breakfast five minutes before we walk out the door. And sometimes? He’s dragging slow enough that I don’t even see him then, I just yell, “We’re leaving!” as I walk out the door and he has to dart out of his bedroom, grab something To Go for breakfast, and meet me at the van. Some days that To Go breakfast is a piece of bread, which is where his motivation lies to get ready on time. A REAL BREAKFAST.
The other morning I was about to yell, “We’re leaving!” when I realized the door to his bedroom was open and HE WAS STILL IN BED. He didn’t actually wake up when I came into his room and turned on the lights at 5:45am. He slept right through it. And here we were, ready to go, and he was still asleep. STILL ASLEEP.
I hustled him out of bed by screaming about how he was, “going to make me late! Get up! Get up!” and just left the house to take the kids to school. I found someone to come get him later that morning so I didn’t have to be late, but not before giving him a 15-minute lecture about how that could NEVER happen again. NEVER EVER EVER.
Funny thing? I think I was most disappointed in the cliche. I mean, sleeping late? That’s so typical. I expect more creative disobedience from my firstborn. There’d better be spray paint involved with the next outburst of teenagedom, that’s all I’m saying.
(Kidding! Again! Please don’t spray paint anything, LilZ!)