boys behaving badly

Friday's Child is Loving and Giving

Hairy came home last weekend, full of bounciness about his girlfriend, and his flat, and his courses, and life in general, and heavily laden down with a lot of septic dirty washing. He and Mouse actually communicated on Friday night. On Saturday I took him shopping for new boots, and he chatted to me incessantly about everything as we wandered through the shopping centre. We went to his grandparents for dinner, and he told them everything too, and showed them photos of himself and the girlfriend (for whom I am obviously going to have to come up with a decent anonymous sobriquet). When we got home, he stayed up until about 4 am in the morning (I know because he woke me up going to bed). On Sunday he snarled at Mouse, crabbed at Handsome – whose only sin was to take him to Tescos, grunged about taking his now clean washing from me and putting it in some sort of receptacle to enable him to take it back to Glasgow, and then snapped my head off just before he left. Grrrrr. I guess he needs his sleep. Next time I'll treat him like Mouse and remove the X-box controllers before I go to bed.

Thursday's Child has Far to Go

Mouse is verging on fury most of the time just now. Mostly (when his elder brother is not around) I put it down to raging hormones and the unfairness of life in general. Some of it probably has to be put down to family temperament and tendency. He is convinced he is the only fifteen-year-old in the entire universe who is not allowed to buy Call of Duty. It is entirely possible that he is the only fifteen-year-old whose mother won't let him buy eighteen-rated games, but I can be very stubborn and also very squeamish… We have screaming arguments about this, and quite honestly sometimes I wonder if it's worth it. And then I hear him shouting in an empty room at an electronic box and think, maybe I have to have some principles. He and Handsome have just had a (better controlled – Handsome doesn't shriek like a fishwife) disagreement about the hour's revision a night that he's supposed to be doing for his prelims next week. He lost again, and is now sitting in the dining room with his books and notes out. And some very very loud music, which I am ignoring. Sometimes it's better to win half the battle.

 

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