The Hairbrush Antics Of Teenagers

My kids a scoffer

My kids a scoffer. Its the withering cynicism of youth, you see. Theyre supposed to be idealistic, kids. Green, liberal, and with a strong sense of social justice. Were supposed to lose all that idealism as we grow older. We become more right-wing. Not my little smartass. He ridicules my generosity, he has no appreciation for all the good I do. Thirteen years old and he mocks my every move. He wont do his chores. He has a whole bathroom to himself upstairs, with a shelf stacked with unopened personal care products that he refuses to use to clean up after himself. He wont even let me kiss him any more. I cant wipe his face clean with a cloth, much less apply a hairbrush to his head.

Mom! hell scream, at even my tiniest attempts to improve his appearance. Then hell push me away.

Thats until last night. Last night, our relationship changed for the better when I noticed my hairbrush missing from the top of the cabinet in my bedroom.

Wheres my hairbrush gone? I asked myself aloud. I checked everywhere, even those stupid places where I might have put it absentmindedly like where the remote usually is in the tv room and under the kitchen sink. I then checked each and every one of my purses. If I lost it, Id miss that sturdy hairbrush.

My teenage lodger wouldnt be using it: He has an unkempt mass of what could be a birds nest that hasnt seen a hairbrush for at least a year. It was then that I heard the singing. Not singing as much as shrieking, like a cat whose tail has just been caught under a steam roller. I wondered where the noise was coming from, and followed it up the stairs to my only childs bedroom. I pushed the door ajar and peeked inside. To my astonishment, my young man had his back to me and he was dancing like a madman, clutching my beechwood hairbrush in his hand.

His iPod earphones wrapped around his head, he was jiving and jigging across his bedroom carpet clutching my hairbrush. Every so often, he would swing the hairbrush towards his face and roar an unintelligible lyric into it before thrusting the brush away from himself towards an imaginary audience. Biting my lip to contain my laughter, I delightedly took out my camera phone to capture a few moments of his performance. I wont carry out my threats, but Ive already told him that hes just one Facebook posting away from becoming a viral sensation. And already our relationship is improving; he let me brush his hair before the schoolbus arrived this morning.

by: Vincent Platania

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