157. Teenager boys surprising learning curve (1)

My son came home for the holidays and gave me some shopping to do. The list went so:

• Barbecue flavoured chips (I know mum they are full of terrible things but just this once)
• Noodles (the same ones I liked when I was a kid)
• Cereal bars (again same, in green wrapper)
• Sweets (just this once please)
• Washing powder
• Clothes rack
• Dustpan and brush

I had to read the list twice. Words and letters blurred and my brain got all foggy. As I did so he was standing there, looking at me, waiting for the APPROVED stamp and the big squiggly signature. 

I made no comments. What could I say? I could not figure out how to point to the unexpected items on the list without upsetting and offending him. From upset he would get ratty and then disappear huffing and puffing. And then, as a mother I would have to say something about the junk food too and then we'd be arguing. And this was a two-week break. 

So I kept quiet, thinking that I was as a mother making good progress in some way if I could let go of the junk food. This worried me though. What was wrong with me that I could see junk food and not go into full-lecture mode about the negative impact on his health, the planet and our local food industry? So I just stood there going through it all in my mind, wondering if these rugby teens were all setting up home in that boarding house, drawing up a list of necessary items and splitting it amongst each other. I wondered who got the washing-up liquid and the sponges ... the bucket and the mop ... the iron and the ironing table ...

My son was getting impatient.

'Well? Will you get that stuff for me please?'

'Yes, yes, no problem. I'm sure I can get all the items. But ... you know ... a dustpan and brush? ...'

'Yes. We need one for when Luke does the haircuts.'

'The haircuts?' This came out much louder than I wanted it. In fact I almost screeched. 

I was going to say that it was the football players who had stupid haircuts, but then even I knew what Chabal's hairstyle was like. I suddenly was horrified at the thought that my son and his pals could let their hair and beards grow and look like a bunch of Neanderthals chasing a rabbit across the pitch. 

'Haircuts! Great! Good idea! I'll get that no problem.' 

Now I wanted to praise him for this list. What an inconsistent educator I was. No wonder the poor lad was sometimes confused.