I’ll admit that over the last few months there have been moments when the balls have dropped.
Not all at the same time, unless you count the three consecutive mornings AND evenings where I put my shoes on before I put my pants on (mornings) and slippers on before I put my jarmy pants on (evenings).
The odd thing here and there, although mostly I’m keeping it all together. Sometimes I’ll forget to get something out for dinner, but that’s usually the days I don’t do it and it’s the fourteen-year-old’s responsibilty.
Those days, I’ll usually get a call saying “What are we having for dinner?” and I have to think about something even though it hasn’t entered my mind at all, at any point during the day.
My reply, more often than not, is “Pasta? I dunno. Do we have any bacon for a vegetarian pasta?”
I have a system for remembering school excursions and other things like that, and for paying for camps and trips and extra curricula stuff.
I’m just not around so much to do my usual level of reminding, which the kids refer to as nagging, them to do things.
When I am around, I’m usually catching up on a few hours work that I wasn’t able to do at the office, or working on my own stuff.
Mind you, the whole reminding stuff has precisely the same impact as it always has. I can say anything I want at home, really, because no one listens to me anway.
So, after yet another weekend of “Have you changed your hermit crab’s water?” reminding, a thing which I know believe is merely habitual because I have to say it every freaking weekend, I was met with a different response.
Generally, it is “Uurgh!” or some other similarly whiney/grunty sounds that indicates a lack of willingness to do anything at all, other than that which he is doing. Which is generally nothing.
This morning, however, it was “I think my hermit crab is dead.”
Now, this is not the first pet, nor, indeed, the first death of a hermit crab, and I have done all the relevant reading for how to talk to your upset child about the death of beloved pets, and death in general.
Quite surprisingly, I have yet to come across the most approriate of responses for dealing with such an issue.
Apparently, according to the loved up, marshmallow sweet, fluffy, talk to your child in a way you’d never speak ever parenting experts and websites, saying “Well, I’m not bloody surprised! It looks like it’s been dead for a while, too,” is not the correct response.
Just so you know.