Demented mum: The jig is up for Wolverine's night-time trysts
SHE'S really done it this time. The Wolverine's latest escapade has taken your breath away.
As always, your daughter unconsciously offered the first clues to her heinous shenanigans.
Lately -- and for the first time since hitting puberty -- she's startlingly sanguine about having to live in the country.
One day, she cockily mentions that she doesn't have to beg lifts to town from you anymore -- she has transport!
Cunningly, you do not react.
You lurk; you listen to phone conversations, and, sure enough, you soon hear her boasting to friends about a boy with a car. More significantly, a boy with a car who's eager to give the Wolverine lifts into town.
And in secret.
In return for what, you shudder to think.
It's a simple routine, you learn, your ear pressed to the keyhole. She goes to bed early, claiming exhaustion and insisting on not being disturbed.
Once she gets a text informing her that her chariot has rumbled up to the gate, your princess tip-toes downstairs, climbs out a window and voila -- off she goes to her rendezvous.
You inform your husband who predictably reacts with horror and fury.
Imagining a heavily pregnant Wolverine pushing a buggy down to the social welfare, you plot to intercept her.
For two nights in a row the two of you lurk fruitlessly downstairs in the dark.
On the third night, however, there's a telling little creak and you both go on full alert as a shadow glides down the stairs and slithers through the hall.
The Wolverine has one leg out the spare room window-sill when the two of you materialise behind her.
"Where do you think you're going?" your husband inquires coldly.
The Wolverine shrieks and topples backwards.
Two hours later, following a confession, an accord has been reached.
The Wolverine has agreed that she is showing immense disrespect to herself, the boy and her family by meeting him in the dark on the side of the road.
The Wolverine has agreed to invite the boy to the house provided nobody makes a fuss over him.
The Wolverine insists that nothing untoward has happened ... in the adult sense.
Many a baby was unwittingly conceived and a college degree lost in the back of some lad's car, you say grimly.
"I swear, Mum, I wouldn't be that stupid. Honest, I'm still an immaculate conception," she wails, smearing the mascara streaks on her cheeks with trembling hands.
You don't know whether to laugh or cry.
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