"Do your homework!" "Brush your teeth!"
Now, don't get me wrong. I don't start off
Take today, for instance. W. came home from school and our normal routine began. I looked through his backpack while he got himself a snack. While he ate and I looked over papers, I asked him about his day. I got the usual answers to my questions. "Fine" and "Nothing".
As soon as he scarfed down his chocolate chip muffins and washed it down with some milk, he was out the back door. I let him blow off a little steam when he gets home. He's allowed to play in the yard for about 45 minutes before homework begins.
I glance at the table where he has left his paper plate, cup, and crumbs. Again. You see my kids are suppose to actually clean up after themselves before they leave the table. You know, because I'm such a slave driver and all.
I open the screen to the back door. "W. could you come in here and clean up your snack mess, please?"
No response. He doesn't even look in my direction and continues kicking the ball
Maybe he didn't hear me. I'm pretty sure he did, but I'll give him the benefit of the doubt.
I speak a little louder, "Excuse me, W.? You need to come in here and clean up your place at the table."
Nada. No reaction at all. He's now running around the yard screeching in that God-awful, high-pitched voice he uses just to piss off the elderly couple next door. I'm sure that's not his intention, but usually the end result, nonetheless.
AAAAAHHHHHHHH! "W.! GET YOUR BUTT IN HERE-NOW!!!" I scream, not caring at this point who the heck hears me.
"Oh my GOD, MOM!" he says, as though I just hit him in the head with a baseball bat. Not that I didn't think about it. I mean it was just lying there on the ground, all metal and gleaming, calling out to me. "Pick me up, pick me up."
"I asked you three times to come in and clean up your place!"
He whizzes past me and says, "I didn't hear you!"
I almost tripped him. "The whole freaking neighborhood heard me!"
"Well, do you have to yell?"
"Do I have to yell? If I whispered the ice cream truck is coming, do you want some? That you'd hear!"
I'm wondering, is selective hearing an ailment? Is it a virus? I'm thinking it may be hereditary. I'm betting, that if researched, scientists would find that the gene comes from the male species.
Because in the Schmitty house, the apple don't fall far from the tree!