The Kid ~ Vignettes

Apparently, I can't do a nice thing for The Kid (my son, Balthazar) without said act of kindness being regarded with deep suspicion. A while back, he mentioned he needed gloves. I kept forgetting about this until one Sunday that I happened to be at work, I remembered to order him some and have them shipped to him up at college. So I ordered two pairs, each from a different vendor, 'cause, you know, they're easily lost or misplaced (though I didn't tell him he'd be getting two). He let me know when pair one arrived, but when pair two turned up a couple of days later, he texted me, "What is the meaning of this?"

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When I moved back in with the 'rents at the end of September, I was appalled to discover that the closet in my "new" room reeked of mothballs. Reeked, I tell you! I tried simply cleaning/vacuuming/airing out, but the stench remained. So I took the advice I read on the Interwebs, to stick some baking soda all up in there, close the door, and wait for the malodorous offense to the senses to disappear. I'd forgotten to mention these to Balthazar, who visited for the Thanksgiving holiday this past week. He made it up to my room before I did and, when I arrived, asked, "What are those bowls of cocaine doing at the bottom of the closet?"

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While he was home, he asked if he could hang out with friends Thanksgiving eve, which was fine, as my mother worked that day, so we didn't celebrate the holiday till Friday. I told him to be home by 12:30am, at the very latest (only 'cause my mom works nights and typically gets home by 1am, and if he wasn't home by the time she was, I anticipated us both getting grief). 12:30 came around and Balthy didn't. The following text conversation ensued:

Me: Almost home?
The Kid: Sooooorta.
Me: How soon will you be here?
The Kid: Er like 15. Sryyyy
Me: Sighs
Me: You're not walking, are you???
The Kid: Naw we're [at a diner] in [place redacted]
Me: Wtf
The Kid: We're driving back very soon about to pay the bill

(There was no way he'd get home before my mom. I then went through a swift succession of pre-set "smileys," seeking a frowny one which would adequately convey my extreme displeasure. Amusingly, I hadn't used many of these pre-sets, so I had no idea what image I'd get, half the time. Some of them were doozies. After a heart came up...)

Me (explaining): I'm trying to find a pissed off smiley

(I tried a few more and finally settled on a "smiley" that looked, to me, as though it was pissed off.)
 
Me: I guess that's the one
Me: Though the bat was pretty kewl
Me: But yeah, I'm totally pissed at you
The Kid: Oh, you

PS: He got home significantly later than my mom, who, when I told her he was with friends at a diner and running late, said the equivalent of "Poor baby!" in Portuguese. I'm not sure why she commiserated with him, when I was the one wigged out by his lateness, but there it is: for all the things that would've earned you a strip torn from your hide, your parents will readily forgive their grandchildren (and give 'em cookies, while they're at it).

There's no justice in this world.