Episode 13 – Robin Hood

It’s past nine o’clock, time to get ready. Wolf has called, he's got his regular Wednesday early AM appoint in truth I have forgotten about, on his way to pick up his housekeeper before coming to get me and my kids and one of their friends.   

"We'll be ready or we'll have coffee," I tell him since I know how hard it is to get a group of teens up and about in any sort of orderly fashion.  For those who have young kids, or none at all, I kid you not; teens keep odd hours, have raging hormones and thus are generally more difficult to negotiate with than any toddler's so-called terrible two's.   They seem to be like vampires; sucking you dry financially and emotionally.  And they are sneaky. But for the most part they are fine once they're rested and well fed.  Don't ask what my food bill is these days. I now understand why Costco is such a success which earlier I could not fathom faced with the dilemma of where to put it all.    

Basically, infancy is a parent's practice field for dealing with teens and then other adults. As any caretaker will tell you, everyone is grouchy when they are tired or hungry.  I was in my prominent lawyer's Park Avenue office last week when he mentioned a study which came out recommending that all business meetings should provide food, like the muffins and coffee service on his buffet (did I mention he's about forty pounds overweight), since the study showed that matters are resolved with greater ease when there is food provided.  Duh!  This is what comes of a society that has not raised kids.

In the meantime I have to wake up my teens, no small feet in case you've never had the experience.  Basically, teens need to catch up on sleep 'cause they deprive themselves staying up half the night watching TV or chatting online.  In either case, they are not usually nice before noon.  It's now my third attempt.  The phone's ringing hasn't done it, the loud TV has not done it, nor my every twenty minute shake-up.

"Come on, you have to get up and get Flo here," I remind my fifteen year old.  "We have over an hour," is the stock reply.

I call Wolf making sure to check my watch to be sure his appointment has concluded. “We're not ready. Take your time," I have to inform him.  "OMG I have to go, my older daughter is cleaning a pan she used last night!" I hurry to say.  "So, that's good," Wolf tries to implore. "No, you don't understand. She's using Brillo on tephlon. I'll call you back." I hang up and hurry to the kitchen. Too late, a trip back to Macy's is required.

I call back Wolf.  "Sorry. Do you think I can quickly run into Macy's on the way today?" I foolishly ask.  "What do you think I am a chauffeur service? Can you at least get me a cap while you're there?" I guess I ask too much.

In the car the girls are chattering away.  Good thing Wolf is hard of hearing; I don't think he'd enjoy much of the talk.  I strike up a topic of interest with him.  "You know, she had a problem on this trip," I tell him the story of the autistic kid along with my Robin Hood line.  "Robin Hood was not a thief," I am corrected, "he took back what was stolen from the poor."  Maybe Wolf is right on this point since I don't really know. I tend to stick with chick literature and have not read through the Three Musketeers or Robin Hood, nor can I quote every line from the Godfather.  But this I know, "Well, perhaps that's why it's a classic 'cause it has controversy whether or not he stole from the rich or stole from the poor."  That ends the matter and dialogue with Wolf who seems to think I have a major problem about being right all the time. It isn't so. I just think more clearly and have some meritable food for thought. I did not say I was right about Robin Hood.