Stupid Things Teens Learn from Their Phones
by Lela Davidson on May 10, 2012
in Rugrats, Tweens, & Other Offspring
When I noticed the dark brown wound on the back of my 13-year-old son’s hand, he explained that he had burnt himself with salt and ice. “I just wanted to see if it would work,” he said. “It didn’t even hurt.” When my shock turned to anger, he implicated his 11-year-old sister as an accomplice. I had apparently raised not one, but two, “gifted” children.
Why would honor students with no history of drug use or brain disorders maim themselves in the name of curiosity? They saw it on YouTube, naturally.
Read the rest of this post on Today Show Moms
Caught in the Act
by Lela Davidson on December 18, 2009
in Marriage, Rugrats, Tweens, & Other Offspring
After an enlightening conversation with a new acquaintance, I decided to ask my Facebook Friends if they’d ever been caught in the act by their kids. The response was overwhelming. The situations people were willing to share with me made me insanely jealous, and also wonder if they knew what that little turny-thingy on the door knob is for. Not a surprise: there were a lot of instances of women getting tossed across the room out of sight.
I won’t go into the individual stories, but I thought I’d let you in on the top excuses given to the traumatized children.
- We’re practicing our MMA moves.
- I’m just rubbing Mommy’s back.
- Sometimes Mommy likes to play Cowgirl.
- I’m looking for my phone.
- Oh come on, it’s nothing you haven’t seen on Channel 726.
and my personal favorite…
- Well I guess I’ll never be able to talk Mommy into THAT again.
Will My Husband Survive the Teen Years?
by Lela Davidson on November 13, 2009
in Marriage, Rugrats, Tweens, & Other Offspring
We’re sitting around the dinner table the other night when the phone rings. Three of us at the table know who it is. It’s the cute girl my 11-year-old son is ‘going out with’, the one I describe as a ‘fellow 4.0 student’ and my son describes and ‘nice’ and ‘accurate’, the one who has very good posture.
The only person in our family who doesn’t immediately know who is on the phone is my husband, John. In his best 1950s Father voice he asks, “Who could be calling so late?”
It is 6:30.
I answer the phone and tell the sweet girl that my boy will call her back. Then I tell John he may have a very difficult decade ahead.
