Imaginary Frat Friends
My son is an only child. He’s also the only one who gets blamed when I can’t find something and the only one who gets to take out the garbage. I know there’s a whole paradigm surrounding the concept of being an only child that makes them think they’re far more unfortunate than they are, and as a result, some of them develop imaginary friends.
My son took it to the next level. He has imaginary frat friends.
Imaginary frat friends aren’t here to keep my kid company, they’re here to wreck his room.
They started small. Used tissues aimed at the trash missed. My son obviously got the “friends” with no athletic ability.
Then wrappers stopped being disposed of properly. Spilled substances with bizarre physical properties were unidentifiable. NASA still has one under study.
My nephew once coined a phrase that perfectly explains the state of my child’s room as it had his at this age: “It looks like someone picked it up and shook it real hard.”
OMG, the imaginary frat friends are relatives!
Lately, they’ve taken over the whole house. They’re especially negligent in putting away any condiment that requires refrigeration and they have a great adversity to pinching closed the fasteners on any Ziplock bag.
Empty cartons of milk show up in the refrigerator, dirty dishes are abandoned wherever they were finished and I saw one of them pissing in the bushes.
I need Ghostbusters!
They’re turning my place into Animal House and they’re doing it without alcohol, illicit drugs, pledging or final exams. The worst part is, I think they’re descendants of mine.
Recently my Facebook post was: “I found something my teenager did and asked him about it. In the process, I discovered there is such a thing as a stupid question.”
My son saw it and phoned me. “Am I in trouble?”
I laughed. “Would you rather I told Facebook that you left your used Q-tips covered with ear soil on the coffee table?”
He laughed and said, “Those weren’t mine!”