>Best. Summer. Ever.
>
It is only the fifth day of summer and already, I am exhausted.
My 17-year-old stepdaughter has declared that this must be “the best summer ever,” meaning that every hour of every day is now devoted to searching for “fun” in all its elusive forms. Conversations like the following abound:
“Can I go and pick up my friend Doug-o and bring him over here?”
“Yeah, but wait until 11 to go.”
“Why?”
“Because your dad and I are going to the gym and we’ll be home by then.”
“Why do you have to be home?”
“Because you’re having a boy over.”
“It’s Doug-o.”
“I know.”
“He’s not like, a boyfriend.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
*Big Sigh*
And this one.
“I’m going to go chill for a while at Carl’s place.”
“Will his parents be there?”
“His mom will.”
“Okay, just leave his address and phone number before you go.”
*Big Sigh*
Apparently, the Best Summer Ever also inexplicably requires that my stepdaughter hide her plans from us until the last possible moment, like after she’s gotten dressed and put on makeup and fixed her hair and found her money and keys and put on her shoes and done me the service of stopping by the wherever-I-am to casually inform me of where she thinks she’s going. And on the occasions that we tell her ‘no,’ as you can imagine, all hell breaks loose. Good times, people.
My muscles, as a result of this great search for merriment, now feel tightly coiled at all times, ready to be sprung at any moment by the signs of my stepdaughter surreptitiously (she thinks) getting ready for yet another escapade. What will it be this time? Driving to a city park in order to dance behind a bunch of hippies carrying a sign that says “It’s Summer”? (Yeah, that was last week.) Attempting to drive her sister and herself to a downtown nightclub and getting pissy when she’s turned down by her evil ‘rents? Chilling at some boy’s house? It’s a laugh a minute, friends. I know you all wish you were me.
I can just tell this is going to be my Best Summer Ever, too. Woot.
This post originally appeared on Parents.com.
