College Boy has shed his melancholia – at least for the time being anyway – although he hasn’t actually spoken to me this morning yet. This may be due to a preoccupation with his beautiful hair or some unspoken crime that I’ve committed – ‘looking at him in a funny way’, ‘breathing in his direction’ or ‘smelling funny’ (that’s ‘perfume’ to the rest of the world). I get off lightly compared to his Dad – who nearly caused an incident on the motorway by having a swig of squash whilst driving. The ensuing temper tantrum from College Boy because ‘the smell makes me want to vomit’ was awesome. The suggestion that a dehydrated Dad does not a good driver make – fell on adolescently deaf ears.
So it’s parents’ evening this evening and if it goes well all four of us will celebrate with a takeaway. If it goes badly then he’s buying his own (that went down like a lead balloon but to be honest I’m running short of sanctions). How do you discipline a six footer who has an independent income and an occasional scary manner. In the words of my grandma ‘I’m mother yet!’ I say it but I’m not convinced.
Swift update – he has spoken and it appears that he has a test this morning and that’s why the air is stiff with tension. Must watch my ‘p’s ‘q’s and every other letter in the alphabet for the next twenty minutes. (Grits teeth).