Demented Mum: A landmark occasion -- the end of her first working week
THE Wolverine just can't handle this family and its insane demands. She's been at work all day, she screams with relish.
She can't be expected to come home and like, unstack the dishwasher!
She's exhausted, for God's sake. Unlike the rest of you losers, she's put in a solid week of eight-hour working days.
On top of that she's handing up money (€10) from her summer job to, like, pay for her keep.
What more could you want?
Can't anyone give her a bit of peace?
Go away, she yells at smaller siblings.
She's been, like, running around a crèche all day looking after small children.
Later, she reluctantly allows that, yeah, she kind of likes it.
The owner of the crèche keeps telling her how great she is with children, that she's far, far better than any of the other students she's hired to date.
Clever, you think enviously.
And, says the Wolverine complacently, the little kids just adore her. They follow her around, asking her opinion on everything and telling everyone the Wolverine is the best of all the 'teachers'.
So, she is now very seriously considering a career in child psychology.
Or psychiatry -- that would probably pay better actually.
However, after you mention that to become a psychiatrist you have to get astronomically high points and do seven years' grind in medical school followed by further intense study and specialisation, the Wolverine quickly decides to become a child psychologist.
The Wolverine brightly assures you that she will work very, very, hard for her Leaving Cert because she'll, have to earn, like, zillions of points to get on to a university course in psychology.
Meanwhile, though, she's got her first pay cheque and she, like, needs this totally new wardrobe.
Will you go into town with her? She smiles winningly.
You fail to melt. Because this is what going shopping with the Wolverine entails:
Begging, pleading and shouting to get her up. Begging, pleading and shouting to get her to have some breakfast. Driving into town with your ears ringing as her favourite radio station bellows out awful music. Standing around in various shops listening to more deafening pop music and looking on non-judgmentally as she selects the tackiest garments she can find.
Arguing with her to at least try on the clothes before she buys them. Giving her extra money when she runs out.
So you say pleasantly:
"You know what, you're a working gal now! Why don't you just get the bus and have a day out all by yourself?"
Wow, says the Wolverine approvingly, you finally get it, Ma.
Phew, you think.
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