The Case of the Missing Jacket

I have failed miserably as a parent. Not in totality, but at least in one area with my nine year old son. It’s in the area of personal responsibility. That is, personal responsibility for his jacket. I have pointedly reminded him that his jacket is his responsibility and that he needs to keep track of it. I see you nodding as you read. You have had this talk. You see where this is going…

Wednesday afternoon: “Mom, I can’t find my coat, I think I left it in Aunt Lisa’s van.”

“Alright, then you need to call and check.”

“Can’t you call?” His voice borders on whining and I raise an eyebrow (sort of).

“Your coat is your responsibility. I will dial the number for you.”

The coat was not in Aunt Lisa’s van, but thankfully, she remembered seeing it on the back of the chair during our McDonald’s lunch. Later that night, the husband and son go to McDonald’s and find the jacket. Dad gives the “your jacket is your responsibility” talk. I sigh with relief. Whew! That oughta do it. DAD has spoken.

On Thursday (yes, the very next day), we took Grandma to the doctor. Guess who couldn’t find his coat later in the day? Same boy. I called the doctor’s office. Sure enough, it was there. Tim and I trekked over in the van, “Go in and get your coat.”

“Aren’t you coming?”

“No.”

“Will you please come in with me?” The almost-whine is back. So is the eyebrow (sort of).

“Your coat is your responsibility….etc…etc…” The boy went in and retrieved the coat.

Saturday (two days later, of course, it was over 60 degrees on Friday, who needs a coat, anyway!) after soccer, I see a strange blue shape on the grass…. “Tim, grab your jacket!”

Did I mention we also have a convenient set of hooks behind the back door where said-jacket is supposed to reside? Happily hung with the other little people jackets, only Tim’s hook is mysteriously empty. I notice this Sunday night and simply sigh and head for bed.

Monday morning and my son wants to know, “Mom, where is my jacket? It’s cold outside.”

I sigh, I say, “You mean, ‘Mom, I lost my jacket.’”

Red-nosed, and growing taller by the moment, my nine year old stands in the kitchen, a blank look on his face. I can tell he has no idea where his jacket is; he is completely clueless. I take pity on the boy this time…I hunt for the back-up jacket. You know, the garage sale one with the sticky zipper? (One of mom’s creative solutions for just such an occasion). Nope, I think that one got left at soccer practice. My dear son, bless his heart, is roaming the backyard this morning in his mama’s shrug….and later, we will have to figure out (once again) what happened to that jacket.

http://traceystidbits.blogspot.com/2010/02/five-things-that-i-love-to-wear-in.html