The Teen.
::sigh::
She vexes me so.
::sigh::
She vexes me so.
Sometimes I wonder if she has a secret plan to make me gray. That used to be The Boy’s job until he turned 7.
Asking her to do any task is akin to asking her to perform teeth pulling or walking 30 miles over hot coals. Let’s take her room. This is her area and her responsibility. She cleans it Monday morning and by mid afternoon, the room looks like a hurricane hit it.
Note that this would be acceptable if it ever happened.
Was I this goofy at 13? Probably was but can’t remember it. Talking to her, I feel like I am an adult in a Peanuts cartoon:
Woomp, Woomp Woomp Woomp
The Mister came up with an even better explanation:
The Teen should be a Sim. That way when I ask her to perform any task, I can assure it would be completed.
Sims are from a highly addictive game where you direct a created alter ego to wash, eat, sleep, clean, work. With the click of a button, you can have your Sim find a job, go to bed, or clean up after dinner.
This would make life so sweet.
Keep the conversation going. Comments welcomed!