January 31, 2013
I’m trying to be the Trollope of Social Services (the Anthony Trollope), but there’s not much point in getting up at five if Enzo gets up at five fifteen and immediately starts demanding television and manages to work himself into such a state that I have to read him Prickly & Poisonous and Scooby Doo and the Case of the Glowing Alien just to calm him down. And these are not short books.
He was standing with his arms straight and stiff, fists clenched, veins standing out on his neck, yelling, “I NEED TO WATCH TV RIGHT NOW! I’M NEVER GOING TO SCHOOL AGAIN FOR TWELVE WEEKS! NOT EVEN TWENTY WEEKS! SCHOOL IS STUPID! NO GRIFFINS ALLOWED!” (The Griffin is the school mascot.)
And I’m sitting on the couch thinking, fuck.
He never watches TV until I leave for work. Why does he keep hoping this will change?
And by the way, Trollope had servants.