Last night our son left our loungeroom- upset with something his Dad had told him to do and stormed to his bedroom. He slammed his door so hard that the house rattled and a blast of his hormones assaulted us in the jetstream.
Dad, not one for warnings, took his DS console, which son had left on the couch, and hid it.
Dad then hollered out- “and that’s the last you’ll see of your DS for a while young man!” to which we heard a low growl emit from said bedroom.
For a nano-second (and having watched too many eps of True Blood) it crossed my mind that our son had turned werewolf on us. But no- of course it was just the forces of impending teen-age-hood and the hormones involved. Hormones which will evolve my son from happy-go-lucky-boy into hairy-intense-man.
They didn’t call it puberty-blues for nothing you know.
Within fifteen minutes good natured son had returned and we received a hug and a kiss goodnight.
In the morning our son sat with me while he was eating his tub of breakky yoghurt . He stopped mid-mouthful and looked at me.
“Mum…” he said “I’ve really learnt something from last night…”
I felt a surge of pride bubble up inside.
“What’s that son?” I said
“If I ever have another tantrum I should take my DS with me.”