Name: margalit
Location: Massachusetts, United States Professional writer, educational advocate, opinionated ultra liberal mother of 18 year old twins, living life in the slow lane due to hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, congestive heart failure, and diabetes.

email: margalitc at yahoo dot com

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Thursday, November 29, 2007

Every picture tells a story

I wish I had my camera up and running, but that won't happen until Hanukkah. Not that I know what I'm getting for Hanukkah or anything (thank you MotherTalk, you got me JUST what I wanted!). Heh.

I've mentioned oh, about a bazillion times, that the Boy has an issue with cause and effect. Like, say, with laundry. Here is an example. If you don't take your laundry downstairs and put it into the washer and then the dryer (cause) then you don't have anything to wear because all your clothes are filthy and disgusting (effect). Simple, eh? Well, not so simple if you're the Boy.

This morning, when I woke him up, he started in on how he had nothing to wear. The truth is, he hasn't had anything to wear in weeks because he does not do his laundry. Now it's all gathered up into plastic bags because he's also filled up all the laundry baskets in his room, but that's beside the point. He can't seem to get the dirty laundry from the second floor to the basement. You know what? It doesn't magically go through two flights of stairs, push itself into the washer, and then transfer itself into the dryer. I know! It's just unthinkable!

So I give him the cause and effect talk, because there is nothing more I like to do than talk to walls. That's about how well it sinks in with him. Maybe the walls are more porous. I'm not sure. I do know that he whinged and whined about having no 'pantalones' because what's better than whining in foreign languages? Finally, sick of hearing his voice, I offer him a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt from my own wardrobe. He makes some nasty comments about my taste in clothing and the possible fit issues, but I toss the sweats onto his stupid blow-up video game chair, and go downstairs. I mean, how much of this crap can a nice person take?

A few minutes later he comes downstairs wearing my Manny t-shirt and my forest green sweat pants, which fit a lot better than he thought they would. I helped him tighten the drawstring, and he's all happy because they are so comfortable. He says:

" You have the BEST clothes, mom. They are always so comfortable. I really like your clothes."

Just what warms the cockles of a mom's heart. When her SON gushes on about sharing her clothing with her. OMG, what the hell is wrong with this picture?

Now don't you wish you had a picture of him in my clothes?

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Blogger scribbler said...

My son never stopped with stealing my shoes until finally his feet got too big--that was a great day! He still steals my bathrobe, though. I'm trying to imagine him in my daytime stuff, and getting slightly worried.

30/11/07 6:17 PM  

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