Wednesday, July 11, 2007

Mom or Anthropologist

I am trying to wrap my brain around the recent level of laziness that seems to have enveloped my child. I don't know if it's puberty or summer that has spawned this mutant creature, but I barely recognize him. Instead of my handsome 13 year old I see Jabba the Hut.

Not that he's ever been one to hop up at the crack of dawn, do 100 push ups, followed by a mile long run, all before I've opened my eyes. But lately it seems I can't even convince him to shift positions on our couch. From sun up until sun down, he is immobile. He is moved only by hunger or bladder pressure. I am fully convinced that if he could, he'd have a potty chair and a personal fridge placed next to the couch to make life that much easier. His clothes have been replaced by a blanket that he's converted into a toga. Next to him on the couch are all that he considers essential: cell phone, house phone, remote control, laptop open to his myspace, and video game controller.

As if it's not enough to resemble the Hut, he's encompassed his way of communicating. I can't understand a damn word my mutant child speaks. Every time he opens his mouth I curse the absence of subtitles and look to God for translation. To make matters worse his friends all speak this alien tongue. Since they are the only ones that do, he has taken to having at least one co-inhabitant at all times. They spend their days sitting around my living room in their togas, speaking their foreign language, and chugging away a week's worth of Gatorade in one day. I guess all of that inactivity works up quite a thirst. Meanwhile, I make mental notes to to sign up for a course in Ebonics/Hyphie 101. Does my local community college even offer such a class?

Probably the most irritating of all is the amount of consumption that has become my mutant's daily requirement. He and his breed eat endless amounts of food and my bank account is really feeling the pinch. This breed doesn't do dishes either. Cleaning hasn't been introduced to their species yet. When you suggest to them that they get up and clean their mess they make a weird sound (half grunt/half squeal) and look at you with a very perplexed expression, as if to say, "I can't understand the words that are coming out of your mouth right now." I guess my expectations for a bi-lingual mutant are a little out of reach. Someone please find me that Ebonics course, stat!

I feel like an anthropologist, studying a new tribe. I wonder if National Geographic would be interested in my findings. Do you have a mutant sharing your space? And if so, what did you do to reclaim your child? I seriously hope this isn't it for the next 5 years. No wonder they created college. Without it, the mutant would never leave and the parent would go insane.

1 comment:

Jenn said...

OMG!! This was he most hilarious thing I have read in a while. It sounds like D has a real bad case of summeritous. WOW, I was in tears reading this.