My son offered me $3 to rent my sky blue Nike sport socks this morning. It seems they matched the Polo shirt he planned on donning for his afternoon visit to his girlfriend's house where he hoped to 'hang out' (what combination of actions might that entail between two enamored 14 year-olds?) and swim under the supervision of the mom and younger brother. After the requisite maternal lecture on how his rapidly enlarging size 10+ shoe racks would sully and stretch my prized walking socks, I relented. He could borrow them -- this ONE time -- and keep his dollars.
A later disagreement over mowing the lawn per my instructions led to a cancellation of his little field trip with his fair Fraulein. We parted ways concerning the alteration of the truth. Thus, my socks were granted a reprieve. For today.
But the issue of interest here is that he asked at all. After all, if you are under 21 and living in our house, there is a one-sided understanding that what's ours is really yours. For free. At any time. Without need of something as outdated as permission. In fact, once you utilize the item in whatever abusive manner you see fit, you simply toss said item in with the detritus of your bedroom or bathroom and allow it to disappear. Further, you will promptly lose all conscious memory of ever having had the item in your possession for any length of time.
Indeed, your amnesiac state may keep you from recalling the piece of personal property ever took up space in the home you are allowed to enjoy with free room and board under the gracious allowance of your parents. Parents who are understandably confused to discover the _________ (fill in blank with any of the following on, but not limited to, this list: shampoo, razors, brush, hair gel, toothpaste, underwear, t-shirts, shoes, earrings, iPod, CD's, pillow, blanket, favorite pen, gum, dollars and cents, restaurant leftovers hidden in the darkest deepest corner of the fridge, the last 'I-have-dibs-on-this' piece of last night's dessert, bicycle, car keys, belly button lint, magazine, iTunes card, ink in the printer, Victoria's Secret Free Undies offer, BOGO Hastings movie rental coupon, stamp, and -- YES -- socks) inexplicably absent from it's everyday resting place.
In retaliation, I initiated a campaign of hide n' seek. But in my first race out of the gate, I stalled. Misplacing my eldest daughter's shampoo and conditioner in my shower and awaiting her frantic last-minute towel-wrapped search worked exactly once. I noticed the second time around the containers remained on the ledge for over a week. My products were untouched. So what was she using? Had she seriously not washed her long tresses in the past seven days?! Nope. Turns out she found empties which weren't quite as empty as she thought. Wow! No need to walk the extra thirty steps or so to retrieve them from my 'expansive' bed n' bath suite.
I still think I've hit on a good idea. The rare good idea. It just needs tweaking. I need to develop that carelessly casual attitude required of all expert shoplifters, er, home borrowers. Shampoo yesterday . . . cell phones tomorrow?
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