Adulting 

My eldest son dropped his contracted iPhone down the loo, his excuse was he wanted to watch other people playing a computer game on YouTube while having a wee and he forgot how big his pee wee was and dropped the phone.

Splash

Ok.

Put in Aldi starchy brown rice

‘Do not touch it’

‘DO NOT touch it’

The wet phone,  not his epically large teenage phallus……apparently. 

I go to work, tired and highly likely to have been hungovered. 

I call home at 15.30 to check in. 

‘Hey babes, everything alright’

Mum, I think I’ve done something’

‘Tell me now…..Right now!’ I start packing up bag and turning off computer, younger son must be impaled on sofa with an Xbox…Wait, they wouldn’t hurt the Xbox. 

‘I heard that putting the phone in the microwave helped’

‘On, or just in’

‘On but it was only for a second’

‘You twat’ Yes, I called my 14 year old son a twat.

After asking if he understood how a microwave works…..He sobbed that he did but he was desperate for it to work and he listened to a mate, called Jack.

I have failed, as a parent 

A – I don’t even know how a fucking microwave works (that will be on sale from Japan soon I’m sure;) 

B- He isn’t scared of me enough to do as I say

C- He’s a numpty twat

Beautiful, clever, sharp, artistic 

But would probably agree to bareback a 50 year old seasoned Czech prostitute, pay her for it, and leave a tip…..And it won’t be to ‘Not eat yellow snow’

So tonight I taught him how to wash his face and tweezer his monobrow while singing Bob Marley and fielding questions on how to chat up girls.

Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing and maybe we both learnt valuable lessons…………..

Teenagers don’t know how to adult 

And neither do I 

But we will ‘micro’manage round it. 

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