Now on to
something MUCH lighter…let’s take a little field trip to Derek’s world, shall
we? (C’mon, it’ll be fun! It’s just a glimpse into the murky thought processes of a
17-year old boy…that can't be scary at all, right? Stick with me, here..)
So, one of
those things I gave up on a looooong time ago as a mother was attempting to
force the children to fold their t-shirts and store them neatly in the dresser drawers. I mean,
this was important to ME, but they couldn’t have cared less about whether their
clothing lay in perfect stacks….or for that matter, whether they strolled out of the house
looking like wrinkled messes. I simply had to accept that they had different priorities, like whether their
faves were clean (which we could ALL agree on, actually), and whether they
could easily lay their hands on the one they wanted to wear on any given day
(which somehow, even without using my—clearly superior—arrangement, they manage to accomplish).
Imagine my amazement,
then, when Derek approached me one day out of the blue with a gigantic grin
plastered on his face and announced, “I just did something you’ll be very proud
of…I organized my t-shirt collection!” Now, I have to admit, my thoughts did not
immediately jump to, “Wow, buddy, that’s awesome!” Instead I glared at him and
retorted, “Oh, really? You mean, that thing I’ve done countless times, and been
railing at you about for YEARS?” His smile turned sly as he replied, in a tone
of aggrieved innocence (as if I were persecuting him for his revolutionary
ideas, or something. Very dramatic…), “Yeah, but now that I thought of it…it’s
a much better idea!”
(Obligatory
pause for maternal episode of banging one’s head against the nearest wall. Okay,
carry on…) He continued, his enthusiasm undampened by my lukewarm reception,
“Wanna see?” Well, suuuuure, honey. I can’t wait to experience this innovative
new technique you’ve created (curiosity and sarcasm waging a battle within me,
can you tell?). He pulled open the drawer to expose his handiwork, prompting me
to exclaim, “It looks IDENTICAL to the way I’ve always done it!” (Seriously,
three piles of folded shirts—this is your brilliant brainstorm? Yeah, I was
decidedly…undazzled…thus far…)
He quickly
denied this, protesting, “No, no, there’s a system!”
He earnestly continued with his explanation, “See, there are three tiers. Say
it’s a Friday, and I want to wear something special, I know to look on the
left--that’s Tier One. On your average Tuesday, I might go for Tier Two, in the
middle. And a Sunday filled with homework? That’s what Tier Three is for, on
the right." He concluded with a flourish, "It’ll be so much easier this way!”
Ay yi yi.
Oh well, I guess it could be worse…it only took 17-plus years for him to come
up with a rationale for showing his clothing some respect—one that made sense to him and motivated him internally to change--
rather than continuing to cram his apparel randomly into his dresser. Perhaps
there’s…domestic hope…for him, yet!
On the
other hand, I don’t know why this incident surprised me in the slightest,
really—given another recent interaction with my eldest in which I’d learned
some…shocking? Disturbing? Okay, maybe more like “mildly disconcerting and
unexpected” information. You see, one day when I had entered the teenager’s
Inner Sanctuary—um, “bedroom”—I’d moved his pillow, making space for me to sit on the
bed and chat. He reacted with (mostly feigned) alarm, “Make sure you put that
back the same way!” I was bewildered, “Um…right. Why is that, again?” With his
trademark smirk, he answered, “Because my pillow stays in exactly the same
position at all times!” Far from enlightening me, this only served to further confuse
the issue. “You mean, you don’t rotate your pillow sometimes, for a cooler
spot…or a…ahem…fresher side?” He emphatically shut down the very possibility
with an emphatic, “NOPE! No way!”
In case
you’re wondering, don’t ask me for any further illumination into
this….character quirk…because he was unable to provide me with any actual
reasons, short of the cop-out, “I fear change!” (Utterly negated by the chipper
delivery and impish expression, by the way. And
incidentally, this is a well-known catchphrase in our house, typically used by Husband
to encompass any and all situations in which he wishes to continue doing things the same
way he’s always done, without altering the tiniest detail or causing himself
any discomfort or inconvenience. Well done, dear—you’ve taught your sons an
avoidance tactic that I’m SURE they’ll NEVER take advantage of, or overuse…siiiighhhhh…)
Anyway, fast
forward to the other night, when Riley was seized by a sudden inspiration to
rearrange his bedroom. Specifically, he wandered into where I was
relaxing and commented, “I know this isn’t like me, but for the first time
since we moved into this house, I’m thinking about moving my furniture around.”
Well…as someone who’s easily bored and sometimes changes things up just for the
HECK of it, this came as a call to action. I probably startled—and possibly
dismayed—him when I jumped right up and replied, “Sounds good! How would you
like it?” He sputtered, “Like, right NOW?” “Absolutely!” I said, “No time like
the present!”
Probably
already regretting his impulsive proclamation, he trailed me into his room,
where we discussed potential locations for his bed and desk, weighing the
spatial considerations, the aesthetic appeal, and the functional
merits of each option. Nah, I’m joking! There were honestly only a couple of viable possibilities, so we quickly shifted
his desk to a new orientation, tested it out, evaluated its acceptability…and
that was it. In one fell swoop, the new setup simultaneously solved the problems that he’d
wanted to address, namely “I don’t like my back to the door” and “I’d like the
overhead light to be shining directly onto my work surface” Done, and DONE!
(And another satisfied client—oh, right..."son"!)
When Derek
became aware of these goings-on, he naturally came to check out the new,
improved Riley’s Crib. Of course, he shook his head and asked, bemused, “WHY?
What was wrong with it before?” As if it was so foreign to his own nature, that he was
struggling to comprehend a person’s desire to switch things around…even for a good
cause. Therefore, I couldn’t resist teasing, “Hey, we’re done here…now do you wanna
rearrange yours?” I began striding
purposefully towards his room--with him following briskly at my heels. Now, he
knows better than to panic, since I wouldn’t actually touch anything without his permission.
However, he made his feelings crystal clear by stating, “When I go to
college, I would honestly rather see my room turned into…an arts and crafts
studio (which was probably the most extreme...ridiculous...and unlikely example that occurred to him, given
his…unartistic…mother) than have anything MOVED!”
Alrighty,
then, sweetie: duly noted. But you know...suddenly a rather dastardly scheme is occurring to me…maybe for the
next year I’ll periodically leave scraps of…fabric…and, I don’t know…stray beads? Bits of yarn?
Whatever the DIY-creative-folks use these days…lying about his room for him to
randomly discover from time to time! Ooh, and while I’m in there, I’ll…flip over his pillow! Eh, let’s
just consider it a course in...real-life training...for when he’s going to have to share a dorm room
with someone, who might handle his stuff on occasion, as people do. (Or, you know, it’s just
for my own amusement…whatever…) Mwah hah hah!
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