My teenage son made cookies tonight, the kind you just break
apart and put on a cooking tray.
It would have been great, except for the bothering his
sister part. That part made it really
NOT great. She was in there making tea for the youngest one (nice,
right?) and he was hassling every move she made.
Nothing I said got him to stop. I tried attacking the problem from different angles. I tried being creative. I tried being stern. Epic failures,every one. All I could do was sit in the living room, wallowing
in PMS and thrashing about with high, high levels of irritation.
I felt powerless to stop him.
And then, I realized I had a weapon! I had an arrow in my sling, and I was going
to use it. I called him, calmly, into
the living room.
Me: "Son. Do you know what PMS is?"
Son: horrified look
Me: "Do you???"
Son, with worried, horrified look intensifying: "Yeee-ee-ee-s?"
Me: "Well, that's
what I'm suffering from right now. It's not pretty. It's not fun."
Son, stunned silence.
If eyes could beg a person to stop talking, his would have been doing
just that.
Me: "So get back
in there and make it work with your sister."
Son: "OK OK OK OK
OK Please don't ever tell me that ever again!
I'll be good I promise!"
It worked like a charm: no more bickering or hassling.
As I munched on my warm peanut butter cookie, I enjoyed the
peace and quiet, and wondered to myself if I had used my arrow on a worthy
target. That particular arrow can’t be
used very often.
I hope I chose wisely.
1 comment:
Hilarious! This had me laughing out loud!! Good thinking, Monica :-) Reminds me of a joke Don likes to tell. Q: What's the difference between a terrorist and a woman with PMS? A: You can negotiate with a terrorist!
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