Lies My Teenage Stepson Tells Me: Part I

Overall, I’d say I lucked out with my stepson. He’s a good kid, doesn’t really argue or get hormonal with us, and generally does chores without complaining. That’s pretty much all you can ask for out of a 15-year-old boy

The one thing that drives me absolutely bonkers, though? He lies about everything.

Actually, scratch that–he doesn’t lie about everything. He only lies about really dumb stuff that doesn’t even matter, like whether or not he washed his face or did his homework. Damn, dude…you should at least save your lies for really big things that could get you in ridiculous amounts of trouble. That I would understand.

I make fun of it, but it’s also really annoying and frustrating. I have actually cried because I’ve taken it personally. And then I realized it’s not personal at all because teenagers don’t consider the feelings of others when they decide to lie. Seriously, this is what I’d expect to see if I could peak in his brain and view his thought pattern:

“ME ME ME IT’S ALL ABOUT ME ME ME ME.” 

So, instead of getting mad at him all the time for lying, I’m going to do something productive and post those interactions on my blog instead. First of all, there’s something so intensely gratifying about catching him in a lie. It makes me feel like the smartest person alive because I’m sorry, I will not let a kid who walks around with food in his braces outsmart me. Secondly, it will give me a place to collect all the lies so that when he gets married, I can print and bind them in a book for his new wife to enjoy.

So, without further adieu, here’s my stepson’s lie of the day [it’s not that good, but I was especially proud of the detective work I did to call him out on his shit]:

Pubert is sitting in the living room doing homework, while I sit in the kitchen doing my work. He has to e-mail a teacher, so I let him use my other laptop to do that. I hear him typing away for a while, and the typing eventually turns into the mouse clicking.

I sign into his e-mail from the other room and see that he finished his message to the teacher and sent it.

Me: “Please make sure that you close that computer when you’re done with the e-mail. You’ve got other stuff to do.”

Pubert: “I know, I’m almost done! I just need to write a couple more things.”

Me: “Really? You’re clicking that mouse a lot. That’s not typing.”

Pubert: “No, I am working on the e-mail, it’ll be done in a minute.”

Me: “You mean the e-mail you sent already?

Peanut gallery in my head: “OHHHHH BURN!!!”

Silence from the other room. I hear my laptop close and he puts it away.

Me: “You know you don’t have to creep around on my computer and then delete the history, right? If there’s something you want to do on there, you can just ask me and I’ll let you use it. I’m not a monster.”

The silence from the other room continues, but he can smell my smugness wafting his way, no doubt.

Damn, it feels good to be a gangster.

 

 

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