The why? question

LB has become adept at answering most questions “Yes“, “No“, “Don’t know” or “All of them” in typical teenager fashion. We’ve been pushing him on this recently (not least because it’s pretty boring).

This morning (as with so, so many mornings);

“Mum? I love lorries Mum.”
“I know.”
“Mum? I love lorries Mum…”

Usually at this point I say “I know LB. Do you know how I know?
And he answers “Because I’ve told you 25,000 times, Mum.

This morning I mixed it up a bit;

“Mum? I love lorries Mum.”
“I know.”
“Mum? I love lorries Mum…”

“Why do you love them?”
“Dunno Mum.”
“No, think of why you love them.”
“Dunno Mum.”
“C’mon LB. Try to explain to me why you love lorries.”
“Because. Because…… Because of me, Mum.”

Love him.

My diary (2); Christmas Day

Browsed a bit more of my diary this afternoon. I was waiting to upload some photos and it sort of called to me from its recent position under my computer screen. Next to the packet of Rajah Extra Hot Chilli Powder and the spotty sock.

The page fell open at ‘Christmas Day’. Wow. Now this should be a cracking entry. We always had a great Christmas Day as kids. All that excitement, atmosphere, lovely food and fun. Always fun times.

The verbatim entry;

Christmas Day

Up at 6.30. Opened stocking – Yorkie, tic tacs, book, paper clip, piggy bank, make up, biro, rubber, Abbey National notebook.

Went downstairs. Cup of tea. Unwrapped pressies – cardi, Parker pen and biro, Barry Manilow* LP, Ludlum book, Neil Diamond single, record cleaner, Bogeyman book, Pooh calendar.

Brekky. Got dressed. Listened to Barry Manilow LP. Read book. Had orange drink then Florida Orange. Listened to Beach Boys, Paul Simon, The Police. Tracey worked.

Christmas dinner. Afterwards watched TOTP with No.1s. Bit of George and Mildred, Putting on the Ritz (Fred Astaire), James Bond (Man with the Golden Gun). Went upstairs to my room. Downstairs. Watched Airport 75 -terrible. Bed.

Eh? Where is everyone? Where’s the excitement? The drama? The interaction? The fun?

Why did I keep a daily record of my life based on stuff, the TV I watched and daily activities like waking up and going to bed?

Mind boggling and hilariously, weirdly, odd.

*I ain’t gonna apologise for Bazza. I loved him then and I still do. Mr Ultimate Cheese with the mysterious background. I do wonder about the Abbey National notebook and Neil Diamond single though. 

The homework

LB came back from school with homework today. A questionnaire to fill in about sleep. Homework hasn’t really featured much in his life.

“I hate homework, Mum. I’m not doing it.”
“You’ve got to do it.”
“No. I’m not doing it, Mum. I’M.NOT.DOING.IT.MUM.”
“Don’t be silly, you’ve got to do it.”
“Why Mum? Why Mum? I HATE HOMEWORK MUM!!!
“Stop shouting. Why do you hate it?”
“BECAUSE… I HATE IT. I don’t have to fill it in, Mum. I’m not doing it. I don’t want to FILL IT IN!”
“Pack it in. Tom has to do homework and he doesn’t like it. Why don’t you think you have to do it?”
“BECAUSE I’VE DONE A LOT OF HOMEWORK, MUM. ALL THE TIME. My life has been spent doing homework. All my life! I hate it. I hate it AND I’m not doing it.”
“You don’t do a lot of homework, matey. You’ve got to do it. It’s good for you.”
“Why’s it good for me, Mum?”
“It helps you to learn more.”
“I already know more, Mum. I’m not doing it, Mum.”
“Ok, tell me what you know…”
“Sleep’s good for you, Mum.”
“Anyway, homework’s boring. It’s depressing actually [makes crying noise]. It’s depressing, Mum. I’m NOT doing it, Mum. I hate it….I’M NOT DOING IT. THAT’S ALL.”


“Can I do it now, Mum? Get it over with, Mum?”