My up-to-something teens are always playing games. And I’m not talking about Monopoly and Scrabble.
Earlier this week about twenty matric boys at their school arrived for class in shorts – they had hacked the legs off their trousers and sewed them into Bermudas or bum shorts. (Teen1 was one of the tailors; Teen2 one of the stylists). How I laughed at those wicked boys, playing silly buggers with those cross teachers.
The aim of these sort of games is to see how far they can push the school authorities. What tends to happen is that the parents get phoned to come and take their troublesome teens home. It’s a double jackpot – pissing off both teachers and parents. You can’t go wrong with this.
When my teens play these sorts of games, I’m not too much bothered. It’s the other sort of party game where the rules are a bit hazy and I’m not asked to play that scares the hell out of me.
One night I picked Teen1 and a couple of her friends home from a beach party. Later I found Teen-Friend examining a galaxy of love-bites on her neck. Goodness, how that thin neck had been mauled!
She saw me looking.
“This one is Geoff. And here is Carl and Leonard. And oh, this one here is Damien,” she said, naming each love-bite with eyes as red as one of those hard liquor labels. Then she saw the expression on my face.
“Yeah, you’re right,” she said, acknowledging my dismay. “Those boys sure have weird names.”
I just had to laugh – but the taste of fear was at the back of my throat. Crazy silly games!
|Boy in shorts drives teachers crazy|