When I started blogging and social media-ing, Little I was a little more than a year old. He’s getting ready to turn 13 and, while learning to be a mother in those infant and toddler years was challenging, nothing prepared me for teenager life. For all intents and purposes, save a couple of months, he’s a teenager.
There are so many day-to-day tasks that we do as adults that we take for granted. I realized this summer that, for as much as he does to help me, Little I needed “how to be human” lessons to make sure he really learns basic life skills without his mom nearby.
Last Friday, I asked him to make dinner while we ran an errand. I left him an array of options to make in the microwave. I left him only one instruction…
Do not put metal in the microwave.
I came home to the faint odor of burning polenta and a metal pot with an exploded lid. He had missed the only instruction I had given. He now definitely knows not to put metal in the microwave unless he’s trying to have a Tesla moment.
Yesterday, I asked him to load the dishwasher with dishes I had left soaking in the sink. The following conversation ensued:
There is truly nothing more terrifying than a single “crap” from an independent teenager. I spent the next hour trying to find him, visions of my flooded house in my head. Thankfully, it was just that he didn’t want to stick his hands into the dirty water, but is there anything more terrifying than a single “crap” from a teenager?