Reality Hits the Fan
Phase Reality was previewed at last night’s family meeting. Summer Schedule. Summer Routine. Gasp! Curfews.
Called from the outermost corners of the free world, the Summer Teenagers emerged semi-coherent and ambled into the living room. They collapsed, the seventeen year old into a chair, the sixteen year old onto the couch. Their faces grim, shoulders slumped. Did somebody’s cell phone bite the dust?
The seventeen year old stared at the end of his nose, deep in thoughts of gratitude, I’m certain. His body was now molded into the chair frame like warm wax.
The sixteen year old, reading ahead on the agenda, promptly announced that there was no way she’d be spending a half hour cleaning her bedroom and bathroom daily. With that, she assumed the fetal position in the corner of the couch. The only additional communiques from her were unintelligible but primitive in origin.
Living martyrs, no doubt. As each item of Phase Reality was disseminated, the Summer Teenagers struggled, the weight of their encumbered freedom almost too much for a Summer Parent to bear. Almost.
I’d like to say that after a spirited yet mature discussion, the evening ended in a relaxed atmosphere, a game of Scrabble and hugs. I’d also like to weigh 120.
Damn, I love a good dose of reality.