But now he's 18, and all grown up he is, all five foot seven of him. I thought I'd walk through the house today and take a few pics to show how well he's ready to take on the world.
When he gets ready for his day he puts his contacts in and leaves the cases in the sink instead of the trash can that sits NEXT to the sink. Difficult, I know. And he occasionally shaves the scruff off his chin, thus leaving what looks like a deat, drowned rat on the faucet. I have my own bathroom, for which I am eternally thankful, and would never have known about this situation save for the grossed out shrieks eminating from the queen of divas, Scotlyn.
Next on my stop was his bedroom, which I haven't dared to enter in quite some time. Surely you can understand why?
But then again, I tell myself, maybe he's not all bad. He doesn't do drugs, drink, smoke,or cuss. He doesn't shoot people or hit little old ladies when he steals their purses (he's very polite about it). He's almost always respectful to his parents except about cleaning his room. He's kind to small children and holds the door for ladies. So what if I'm still tryin to teach him to chew with his mouth closed? How important is that, really? And does it really matter if his underwear are growing green fuzz and breeding under his bed? He's hardly ever been arrested, for crying out loud! I need to keep things in perspective.
He and his friend just came home from a mission trip to Missouri where they led worship for a youth camp. So yeah, with a good job, an understanding wife, and an army of maids, maybe he'll turn out all right after all.
No comments:
Post a Comment