Knock knock.
Who's there?
Stop interrogating me! I need money. Why are you ruining my life?
Whoa. One thing at a time, teenager! Let's just stick to today's exercise in aerobic arguing.
The topic is fruit. The facts are these: The swim team needs food donations for Saturday's big meet. My assignment: 20 oranges. 20 bananas.
First, define "simple." Now multiply by the square root of impossible.
Because I did not get the teen-ager's approval before agreeing to undertake the purchase and delivery of any fruit, let alone oranges! Or bananas!
You cannot imagine his horror at discovering that he is expected to carry three bags of produce into school. OMG!
To sum up: He can not possibly do it. It will make him late for math club, despite the fact that he enjoys door to door chauffeur service at the time of his choosing. Also, why am I always doing stuff like this to him? It's soooo annoying. Didn't he specifically ask me not to?
"Not to what?" I say. "You said you didn't want me volunteering. You said nothing about fruit. What social jeopardy can possibly come of me buying oranges and bananas?"
He has no answer for this. Neither do I.
But I will think of something.
Knock knock.
Who's there?
A Jehovah Witness, your doorbell is broke. Your son sent me over and said you needed to be saved.
Posted by: Audubon Ron | January 15, 2010 at 12:03 PM
I'm not going to feel sorry for someone whose child goes to MATH club.
Posted by: Executive Suburbanite | January 15, 2010 at 02:04 PM
The solution is simple. You bring the fruit into the school yourself, preferably walking with him as he goes in. Chat as you go, and make sure you look around a lot, head high, and point out things like oh goodness the fashion these days and how things have changed since you were in high school.
Posted by: Sue | January 15, 2010 at 02:30 PM
Have FedEx deliver the fruit to him in his math class. He'll have to sign for it. Use his cutesiest pooh-bear nickname on the label.
I'm going to be murdered by teenagers in my sleep some day, aren't I?
Posted by: foolery | January 15, 2010 at 02:46 PM
I say you go with "is that a banana in your pocket or are you just happy to see (insert name of girl he has a crush on).
Posted by: Paulita | January 15, 2010 at 02:56 PM
This is the kind of practical advice you never get from the parenting books. I knew I could count on you guys.
SK
Posted by: Suburban Kamikaze | January 15, 2010 at 04:11 PM
I knew that when my 5 yr old declared my winter hat "stupid" and told me he didn't want me to wear it in the school when I came to pick him up, that Something Was Starting. But I had absolutely no idea the degree to which it might go.
Posted by: MommyTime | January 15, 2010 at 06:14 PM
Kindergartners take hats very seriously. Which is why the pink dog must continually seek the approval of the other dogs for her choice of headwear. It always struck me as a little needy - I mean what makes the yellow dog such a judge of millinery? He's only wearing a paper hat himself - but you have to admit that was some hat she came up with at the end.
SK
Posted by: Suburban Kamikaze | January 15, 2010 at 08:29 PM
Mommy <3's you made me shoot snot. That, and the swine flu. Mostly, the horror.
Posted by: Mr Lady | January 16, 2010 at 06:24 PM
Try a little whiskey in your sippy cup. Some kind of Canadian remedy I believe...
SK
Posted by: Suburban Kamikaze | January 17, 2010 at 03:36 PM
My advice would be to show up at his first period classroom door with big bags of fruit, knock politely and then say, "Sweetie! Sweetie! I've got your fruit!" Then try to kiss him goodbye.
Next time I bet he'll gladly schlep the fruit.
Posted by: Jane/Well Read Hostess | January 19, 2010 at 07:03 AM