The attitude of a teenager can be so trying. I like to think that I maintain a decently high level of patience, but when my daughter starts running her mouth, I feel like Sheldon Cooper from “The Big Bang Theory” when he can’t finish tasks, or songs, or anything he starts doing. It’s like an itch in the back of my brain.
Most of the time, I allow half of what she says go in one ear, and out the other. I don’t take a lot of what she says too personally because children talk regardless of their age. Sometimes I can’t do that. Sometimes she needs a reminder that she’s only thirteen. Not sixteen. Not eighteen. Thirteen. Plus, I don’t just remind her how old she is, I relate it to the situation.
This afternoon, after third class connect dismissed, we went down to the kitchen for lunch and her afternoon medication. The other night for supper, I cooked up her favorite meal, chicken nuggets and broccoli-fettuccine Alfredo. She had eaten some of the leftovers a couple of times, for lunch yesterday, and then again for dinner when she tried but didn’t like the Stouffer’s Chicken Enchilada meal we were eating. I can understand that she’s tired of the dish by now, and that’s why I suggested a sandwich instead of pasta when she told me she wanted chicken flavored Ramen Noodles for lunch.
When I suggested she make herself a sandwich, she looked at me like I had lost my mind or didn’t hear her or something because she asked me what was wrong with eating Ramen Noodles for lunch. I told her nothing was wrong with it, but pasta was pasta. She could have a sandwich. Before eating on the fettuccine Alfredo, she was eating Ramen, so again, I suggested the sandwich.
Well, she didn’t want the sandwich because I asked her what she was going to eat, and instead of answering my question, she walked around me to the refrigerator, opened it, and looked at three different Tupperware containers with food in them. She pulled the container from the bottom of the pile out, and put it on the counter. When I pointed out that she pulled out the buttered noodles from dinner a few days back, she replied with a smile and a ‘snickery’ tone saying, “I know”.
If it hadn’t been for the tone she used, I might have let it go, but I don’t take kindly to a teenager, or any child, talking to me like she did. When I ask a direct question, I expect an answer. It’s fine if you’ve made a decision, but answer my question instead of trying to be smart about it.