Where Manners Are Discussed

Thing 1 is growing up. I’ve known this for a while now.  He is turning into a TEENAGER.  He stinks.  His voice is breaking {which is taking forever}.  And, he grunts and shouts.  At  us, his parents!  In turn, Mr 29 and I are screaming and shouting back at him.  What feels like every day.

He assumes he will get whatever he wants, without so much as a Please or Thank You.

Woah, there Dude.

Back.  The.  Fuck. Up.

And enter the ‘Manners Police’.

That’s me.


I’m a little hung up on manners.  Mr 29 says I’m uptight.  The Things say I nag them.  You see, I’m partial to a please, thank you and pardon.   Do not say ‘WHAT’ to me.

You can clearly see the irony here, non? I insist that The Things are polite, and yet I scream blue bloody murder at them If their manners don’t make the grade.

The words pot, kettle and black spring to mind here.  Yes, Mr 29, I am working on this, dear.

As much as I focus on Thing 1’s manners, constantly worrying about what people may think about him, it’s always amazing to receive positive recognition.  As though I’ve passed a test.  Kind of.

Just the other night, we met friends for a drink.

“We saw Thing 1, earlier on today, riding his bike.  He is so polite. When he rode off he wished us a nice day”

Dang.  Relief washed over me.  That boy.

Perhaps my nagging is the right route, after all.  Maybe.



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