Cereal Complainer
Kath, (40s) defends her behaviour after her teenage son storms out.
(1 minute)
Kids, eh?
One minute we’re eating breakfast, and the next thing I know he’s banging his fist on the table telling me he can’t stand it anymore and storming out the house.
He said I was a cereal complainer.
I never once complained about the cereal . . . at least not to him. I did write to Kellogg’s because cornflakes are dull as ditchwater and they need to know. And I would’ve written to Weetabix about their shredded cardboard briquettes, but he liked them so I thought I’d let that one pass.
Because I’m a good mother . . . and I listen.
I don’t know why he got so cross. All I said was he needed a haircut, and that he might want to think about using a more powerful deodorant. I even offered to buy him some cream for those spots . . .
Cereal complainer. My arse.
© Wendy Storer 2020