Suddenly I don't need to tell Andrew to take his plate and his glass down to the dishwasher. Dunno how long this will last but let's wear the rose coloured glasses for a while .
You'll remember the tale of the threatened weekend without television. Since then I've been in the habit of prowling upstairs every couple of hours and pointing at the crockery. Last night we had some fun! Andrew usually goes to bed about 11:30 ([old fart] since when do 13 year old kids get to stay up that late? [/old fart]). He sticks his head out the door and calls out 'Night Mum, night Rob'.
About 15 minutes before this I'd heard the tell-tale clink of glass upon plate so I knew he had crockery upstairs. So when he stuck his head out and said goodnight I said 'uh, Andrew, you're not quite ready to go to bed'. Puzzled look. 'You have some unfinished business'. He continues to fake puzzlement though I can tell by the ghost of a smile that he knows perfectly well what I'm talking about. 'The plates' I said. 'Oh' he says.
So he brought em downstairs and made a great show of scrubbing them out and putting them in the dishwasher. Then he goes upstairs and wishes us a good night. I coughed and said 'Andrew, you're still not ready to go to bed'. More puzzlement and this time I think it was real. 'Remember that packet of chips you opened? It's waiting to be put back in the cupboard'. 'Oh' he says, and marches down the stairs again. The chips put away he goes up again.
'Uh Andrew' I said again. 'You're STILL not ready to go to bed'. By this time he's getting perhaps a trifle impatient. 'What!' he shouts. Well I was 13 years old once and much put upon; or so it seemed at the time so I'll let that one go. 'Remember the milk? You still haven't put it back in the fridge'. So he stumps down, flings the milk into the fridge and slams the door shut. We'll draw a veil over the lecture that followed.
Today I came home primed for more of the same. It was not to be. And I don't say alas. Yes, there was the same parade of plates and glasses going up the stairs; but for a change there was a matching parade of used plates and glasses coming down the stairs.
Let me at least have the illusion of progress.