so. . . The Teen. . .

my beloved first born

(that's me in the background, peeking around the door
- I'm not allowed in his room -
hoping he'll at least pass me out
the laundry and accumulated debris and rubbish
if I ask nicely)
(notice anything wrong in this dynamic?)

he was due round at ten this morning and - somewhat amazingly - at half nine, when I was still peacefully slumbering in my place of comfy hibernation, I was brutally awoken by the sound of the front door slamming with a huge bang and Jon Stewart's Daily Show playing VERY loudly on the electrical televisual box; at a quarter to ten (it's a fifteen minute show, if you skip quickly thru the ad break) I thought it would be hilarious to text him from my cozy bed: "could you make me a cup of tea, darling?", so I do*; I hear his phone buzz and then a muffled guffaw (he wouldn't want to admit to my being able to bring a smile to his face now would he) and then my phone buzzes with his reply: "No."; I try again: "could you at least put some water in the kettle and turn it on, please?"; reply: "Get up and do it yourself."

(notice anything wrong in this dynamic?)

ok, we might pause at this moment and consider that perhaps, as his doting mother, I should have had my early morning cuppa and have been up and about already, but. . . it is Saturday, my day of rest; and I haven't revealed the reason for his weekend visit (given that he's usually with X or "out"): a purchasing trip to The Vintage Shop

if you've forgotten (and why should you remember?) I might remind you that the POVS and I have recently received an invitation to the wedding of a lovely young woman who, quite a few years ago now, was the POVS' favourite babysitter; Mini-Teen is to be a bridesmaid; not to be outdone by a girl, The Teen and Teen Too decided that they wanted to go "dressed up" and I (in a moment of somewhat foolish enthusiasm) agreed to foot the bill (for those of you without C21st teens, and unfamiliar with my XY progeny, this means I'm now obliged to kit them out in top hats, waistcoats and tails)

whilst part of me muttered "ho hum", another part of me was very chuffed that not only do the XY's want to go to the wedding (their first), they are happy to go with me, and also they want to be smartly attired (or at least attired in something other than jeans and t-shirts) (which is why I'd enthusiastically, but foolishly as it turns out, agreed to sort them out in the wardrobe departments)

anyhoo

a small (*cough splutter*) shopping trip later and I can vouch for that fact that The Teen will indeed look very smart at the wedding. . . the only thing is, now he's decided his look will not be complete without one of these - an item not included in the original wedding attire agreement:

. . .at which point I said "if only you'd made me that cuppa, sweetheart!" and felt that we had finally reached a suitable status of pax on the first drink of my day situation (when I mentioned this to him, he declared he'd make me tea every morning for the next month. . .) (too late!) (it's all in the timing, like comedy, isn't it)

(*and yes, for anyone who read the first few paragraphs of Men Are From Mars, perhaps I didn't phrase it very well - but he knew what I meant)