I asked my sons (15 yrs. and 12 yrs.) to "Please, grab all of the empty hangers out of your closet so that I can hang up the clean laundry."
A few minutes passed. I called downstairs to the boys again, "I need them TO-DAY, please."
"I'm getting them. Hang on," is yelled back at me, as if I were tasking them with something truly difficult that requires me to wait patiently, all afternoon, while they assemble the necessary tools needed to complete the arduois task and then execute it, and not simply gathering empty hangers.
My grumpy teenager emerges from the bottom of the stairs with four hangers. FOUR.
To which I replied, "Where are all of your hangers? I just bought, like, 50 new hangers."
He made no movement to leave. He did not make eye contract. He shrugged his shoulders and then he just stood there.
So, I just stood there back.
After a friggin' eternity, he finally asked if he could leave.
"Sure, but first, tell me where all of those hangers could have gone in the short amount of time that we have owned them? I mean, how can you possibly just lose hangers? I'm so confused."
I got another shrug followed by a grunt, and he turned and sulked away to return to his foot-fungus-sweat-laden-lair formed from mostly empty Gatorade bottles, popcorn kernels, deflated soccer balls, and most recently, 46 white plastic hangers.
Today, I put on my adventurer's cap and braved the monster's fortress in search of the elusive hangers.
You will never guess what I found — just hanging there— in his closet?
Yep.
WHY?
A few minutes passed. I called downstairs to the boys again, "I need them TO-DAY, please."
"I'm getting them. Hang on," is yelled back at me, as if I were tasking them with something truly difficult that requires me to wait patiently, all afternoon, while they assemble the necessary tools needed to complete the arduois task and then execute it, and not simply gathering empty hangers.
My grumpy teenager emerges from the bottom of the stairs with four hangers. FOUR.
To which I replied, "Where are all of your hangers? I just bought, like, 50 new hangers."
He made no movement to leave. He did not make eye contract. He shrugged his shoulders and then he just stood there.
So, I just stood there back.
After a friggin' eternity, he finally asked if he could leave.
"Sure, but first, tell me where all of those hangers could have gone in the short amount of time that we have owned them? I mean, how can you possibly just lose hangers? I'm so confused."
I got another shrug followed by a grunt, and he turned and sulked away to return to his foot-fungus-sweat-laden-lair formed from mostly empty Gatorade bottles, popcorn kernels, deflated soccer balls, and most recently, 46 white plastic hangers.
Today, I put on my adventurer's cap and braved the monster's fortress in search of the elusive hangers.
You will never guess what I found — just hanging there— in his closet?
Yep.
WHY?
