My son, Trystan, is a warm, loving, smart boy. He also is under the misconception that the world is here to wait on him.
You can ususally find him wherever his is, as he has left a trail of discarded items in his wake that he, wrongly, believes others will just pick up for him. I asked him once, after he finished a snack, set down the plate, and began to walk away, who he thought was going to put that in the sink for him. He promptly said, “You.” The fact that he’s still alive today, I believe, is a testament to my patience. The day of this event is when I began to have pity for my future daughter-in-law, the woman whose house him and his ill-guided ideas will move into one day.
The other day, I took my high maintenance boy in for a hair cut. I didn’t think his hair was needed, but he insisted it was waayyy too long. After flipping through the books to find his next style, he showed it to the stylist and they walked away to begin. I waited and waited and waited. Why was it taking so long to cut a kid’s head of hair? I peeked around the corner. He was leaning back in the chair, his face wrapped in towels. Hun?!?! Then the towels came off and a massager came out. My ten-year-old son was relaxing in the chair as a grown woman massaged his neck and shoulders! My son stretched a simple hair cut into a mini-salon day, draining my evening couch time and my check book in the process. It’s a good thing I really like this kid!
“She better be a patient woman!” ~ It’s become a standard response around here. I don’t even know this lady, but I love her for being able to put up with him. Whoever she is, she’ll have her hands full with his constant trail of trash and weird grooming habits, but the trade off is, she’ll be landing one hell of a great guy….if he can just make it to adulthood before I strangle him!