A communication guide for teenagers
Jack and I were in the car the other day, rushing to get him to his violin lesson.
I love that he still plays violin, and that we’ve gotten way past the screechy stuff to a place where I get to hear some lovely after-dinner music – a therapeutic follow up to the hours we have to spend browbeating the kid into practicing … but perhaps a topic for another blog.
On this particular day, like most, we were late.
It’s moments like these I almost despair of him ever managing on his own. The kid is fifteen years old and I swear he hasn’t learned to tell time or put his underwear on right-side-out yet.
“I told you we were leaving in five minutes, which is when you should be finding your shoes and getting your music together,” I said.
Listen to me, going on like I am the world’s most prompt person. I always think I can eek out one more thing before flying out the door, and that maybe all the stoplights will be green, that the traffic will be light, that I’ll be able to slip in just before the meeting starts. It happens. Sometimes.
Mostly not.
Rude, I know, this late thing.
And, it was kind of my regular MO anyway, then kids came along and compounded the problem about a zillion percent, as kids will.
