Teenagers: it is you

An age old ritual was played out this morning, with the boy furiously emptying the airing cupboard trying to find some trousers for school - trousers he had only picked up off his floor and put in the washing bin the day before, leaving the laundry maid (me) all of a flutter as begging-your-pardon but it had been my day off and I had gone to the steam fair in Cholmondley-under-Brisket.

My response at 7.30am was, of course, slightly less lyrical but this is how I would have liked to have answered his tirade.  I find the level of annoyance created by (i) humour and (ii) pretend lyrical references to be very rewarding.

The tragedy of teenagers is that they think they're the first to have been in this situation. 'You don't understand!' - they cry but sadly, we do.  Unless you're a liar or in denial, you've been angry over something trivial like socks or a cup and you have blamed your parents and the universe for this catastrophic failure (mostly your parents but the teen sense that everything is against them is almost overwhelming and thoroughy debilitating).

Perhaps schools should be encouraged to introduce young people to selections from the oeuvre of British TV sitcoms over the last 40 years to help them to understand that they've been a part of the same pointless dance for a very long time.  The day my son watches 'Butterflies' and sees himself on the screen 25 years before he was born will scare the living daylights life out of him.

The trousers are now washed, the equilibrium of the house restored and the festering catalyst for the argument to come a few days from now busily festering on the floor of teen angst even as I type.  

isHey ho.

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