I’m not June Cleaver.

“Can you put the discs for this audio book back in the right pockets?  I want to return it after the movie,” I ask my son as I drive to the movie theater.

He grabs the case to do as I ask, but I can sense his disapproval without even looking at him.  I wait for him to complain. He just can’t except I’m never going to me the mom that always puts things back where they are supposed to go.  Our house will never be in order.  I am not June Cleaver, to his constant disappointment.

“Why don’t you just put them back in the right place as you go?” There it is.

“I’m driving when I listen to it.  It wouldn’t be safe.”

“You’re the one that wants to drive,” he retorts, not being serious, but needing to give a smart response.  “No one said you need to go to work.”

“You’re the one who wants food and shelter,” I respond.  Got him.  I think.  But, I should know better…

“I never said that.  I just want WiFi.”

Oh…life with a teenager…

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7 thoughts on “I’m not June Cleaver.”

  1. Wowzers! This could have been my car just the other day. I hear it gets better after they graduate college… I have so many years to go will I make it???

  2. And WiFi costs money…I have a snarky teenager who grew into a snarky twenty-something. But there’s only snark when we have a disagreement; he is also the one who tucks me in when I’m napping on the couch, who calls me in the middle of the day to ask about the preschoolers he’s volunteering with or to celebrate getting a scholarship. I’ve come to love the snark, too–at least he’s talking with me!

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