 Thomas Michael Johnston, I'm Not Going to Tell You Again by Nancy Johnston, Doting Mother
Seriously, I won't. I am sick and tired of you gallivanting around town with your friends when your father and I have no idea where you are. The rules we made at the family meeting clearly state that you are to call and tell us where you are. Also, the curfew time we made as a family was 12am. I think that's reasonable for a 17-year-old boy.
Look at me when I'm talking to you, son. I thought we were past all this. You hang around those no-good friends of yours, racing your cars up and down the street, blaring that god-awful music. And your clothes! You wear your pants three sizes too big, and they hang down so your underwear shows. Didn't I buy you those nice Bugle Boy jean-shorts the other day? Where are those?
All I know is that I love you, Son, and I want the best for you. Surely you know that. I know you want to take advantage of the future for yourself also. Now let me ask you this: is hanging out at the 7-11 until three in the morning really going to help your future?!
Look, we've held up our end of the bargain, and now it's time for you to do your part. Remember that time I was cleaning up your room and I found all those tissues all stuck together? You were very angry, and you told me never to come in there again without permission. Well, we've stuck to that rule, and now it's time for you to stick to yours.
And another thing: your father and I can't always be there making sure that you are doing the right thing. When you go to college next year, God willing, you will have more freedom than you have ever imagined. We're just trying to instill the values in you that will help you succeed. All I want to do is be a good parent. Why won't you let me do that?
Now, son, all I'm try-Where are you going? Don't you walk away from me, young man! I will take that Playstation away from you! You're leaving the house? Where are you going? You don't really hate us, why are you saying that? Tommy, you better be home by 9. It's a school night, you know. Tommy, Tommy, I love you, sweetie! |
