With a 15yo boy in the house, my husband and I have grown used to the ×knock knock× ×laptop screen slam× "juST A MINUTE!" ×scramble scramble× "...ok" dance. We have grown used to silently replenishing his room with tissues almost daily. We have grown used to herding the two younger ones to the downstairs bathroom while they wonder why their brother is taking so long in the shower. We have even grown used to the occasional tightly bundled sheets or towels in the laundry hamper with a sticky note on top reading "wash separately".
We did not anticipate that the minute everyone else was out of the house, the living room would become fair game. Having driven halfway down the block without my phone, I decided to just walk back to my house because parking in my weird driveway takes more time than the walk. I unlocked and opened the front door in the span of a couple of seconds. This was my mistake. How could I be so careless as to expect to be able to just open my own front door? What was I thinking? I should have knocked. I should have pointedly jangled my keys for 30 seconds before unlocking the door. I should have worn a cowbell.
Anything to prevent me from seeing my darling offspring, my beautiful baby boy, my only son, pants down, humping the couch through a strategically placed towel. WHY?
Tldr: found out in the worst possible way that my teenage son is having an affair with my couch. At least he used protection.
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