Diary of a demented mum: Wolverine's text diplomacy fails to melt our cruel, hard hearts
So, it's Saturday morning, about 8.30am, and you and your husband are sitting at the breakfast table having a quiet coffee together when his mobile phone pings.
Two seconds later, your phone beeps as well. Text message!
They're both from the Wolverine, still in bed, but, alas, far from asleep. She's in a deep sulk because -- well, you can't actually remember what it was about this time. The rows have become a blur, merging almost effortlessly into one long inexorable whine.
The root of the problem lies, it seems, in her parents' insanely selfish decision, 20 years ago, to build their home in the countryside.
This has ruined her existence, affected numerous friendships, destroyed any prospect of a social life and effectively left your daughter with nothing to do except lie in her cluttered, filthy bedroom amongst the dirty crockery and smelly socks and make your life a misery.
"Gd mrning, mum," your edition reads.
The Wolverine -- in disgrace, you now recall, for throwing a screaming fit yesterday evening on being informed that no, she could not have seven of her "closest" friends driven over for pizza and a sleepover on one hour's notice -- is now asking permission to attend tonight's disco.
You're also formally requested to drive 15 miles to the local town tonight to "maby" collect three of her "best friends" from their assorted homes at 7pm, ferry them back 15 miles to your house for pizza and a dress-up session before transporting the shrieking coven, yes, 15 miles back into town again to be at the local night-spot by 9.30pm.
"Then," the text continues cunningly, "maby Dad can collect us at 12.30am and bring me and d girls home for a sleepover even tho disco not over until 1am, but we no he wil probly be tird so are wiling to cum out early.
"Out of the hundreds of kids going tonite, a lot of their parents wil probly be cross wit dem but they still want dere kids to have fun.
"Id appreciate you letting me have my few hours fun. Im only 16 and need a nite out with my friends."
She concludes with the announcement that she decided to send a text rather than make a face-to-face request, "becos txt msgs dnt hav a bad attitude and a cheeky tone in dere voice".
Birds scatter, startled and cawing, from the trees and the peace of the morning shatters as the front door of your house bursts open and two fully grown humans frantically race to the car.
Yep, time to do the shopping.
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