So I confess. I’m still totally #oneofthose moms of teen boys and a preteen girl, asking the boys to hold open the door for females, or help carry heavy stuff.
Maybe I’ve watched Kate and Leopold too many times? Or maybe I just think there’s something good about mutual regard–and about typically “stronger” parties using their strength to serve.
So it’s summer, and the kids are home. And my son, who loves to cook and does so frequently, just asked me where the teaspoons are. Two days ago, he asked me to grab him a pair of socks. Yesterday, he asked me to text his friend. And I calmly responded, without snark, that I was not actually his personal assistant. (Okay. Minimal snark.) These requests are pretty frequent in my house.
In April, before I headed to Thailand, said son was swimming at the pool, and accused me of not making lunch for him (we were at a birthday party for one of our other kids. I was fortunate to be in my right mind). My husband tilted his head. “How old are you?”
“Twelve.”
![Now You're Speaking My [Love] Language](https://www.janelbreitenstein.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/08/love-languages-text-1.jpg "Now You're Speaking My [Love] Language")
© 2024 THE AWKWARD MOM
Theme by Anders Noren — Up ↑
