Tuesday, June 26, 2012

Take the Garbage Out.

I have enough of my own crap to remember.

The garbage pickup is Tuesday and Friday morning. Tuesday is also recycling day, so Monday night all separated trash, paper and bottles go out to the curb. It's my son's chore to take the garbage out. Needless to say, he needs to be told...and told..and told.

Monday, 5 pm: "Recycling is tomorrow. Everything has to be taken out tonight."
"Oh, I know."
8 pm: "Don't forget to take the garbage out."
"Oh, I know." Always this air of confidence, like he would never forget...it´s all totally under control. He's just very busy with other things at the moment. Meanwhile, the recycling didn't go out for two weeks straight about a month back because I wasn't here to remind him, and my wife didn't tell him, either.
10:30 pm: I take the dog out. Every single household in the neighborhood has their trash and recycling on the curb.

I'm tempted to let him forget and then punish him for the whole day tomorrow to prove that he can't be trusted to do something on his own schedule. But then our recycling won't go out, and the trash will sit stinking in the summer heat until Friday.

So I decide to tell him again, but this time it's not going to be when he's good and ready; lights out in my house is at 11 pm. I simply walk up, turn off his movie (which I know will instantly enrage him) and say, "Take the garbage out, now."

He turns red in the face and screams that he knows he has to take it out, that I think I know everything but really don't, and that the trash can wait until the commercials. I say no, it needs to be done now.. When I ask him when he was planning on doing it, he says, "after the movie finishes" (of course). As I'm leaving the room he's turns the tv on again, which prompts me to walk back up and pull the cable feed out of the back of the set. Now we're almost nose to nose..he's yelling, mimicking me saying "take the garbage out" over and over again in a sarcastic sing-song voice, but he marches downstairs to do it.

I know how petty and unreasonable all this sounds on my end, but I don´t really give a shit what you think. There simply is no reasonable way, no halfway point with him. We might come to blows one day, which would be terrible. We've already come close a few times. I have a temper, but you have to push me to a certain point to reach the end of my rope; I've never lost my temper with my boy without it being something that I've told or warned him about, ad infinitum.

He just has a temper, period. Every teacher he's ever had has confirmed as much.

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