Disciplinary Measures

The phone rang this morning, I answered, and found myself greeted by a friendly policewoman from the local police station.  "Oh, Hi!" I said. "What's up?  My son in trouble again?  Been caught wetting his pants again? (I didn't pose the last question, but only because I didn't think of it). "No", she giggled. Well, not quite a giggle but an approximation of a well-meaning policewomanly show of humour. She asked to speak to my ex-husband and I explained that he is away for the next ten days and could I help?  "Are you 'X's mother?", she asked, cautiously.  (I put the 'X' in because I don't want to risk being sued by any of my sons for exposing their antics publicly). "I bravely admitted that I am  indeed his mother and could I help?".

"We need to know what disciplinary measures you have taken regarding your son".  "Disciplinary what?".  I was about to ask her what that meant, when I realised this was not a prank call and that she was dead serious.  "He's already been down to the police station, accounted for his actions and a report has been sent to the relevant authorities. What more do you need?", I politely inquired.  "We need to know what disciplinary measures ..." she parroted again.

My brain switched to overtime as I thought up the kinds of pubertal punishments which would satisfy the authorities.  "Urm, well, we've docked his pocket money indefinitely, he's hardly ever allowed to go out and he has to do twice as many chores than usual and for twice as long."    "Does this mean he has to come home earlier than usual?", she prodded.  Damn! Hadn't thought of that.  "Urm, no. He's only allowed to go out six nights a week instead of seven." I didn't say that either, but I thought it. I told her that his going-out allowance was strictly limited (all the while hoping she wouldn't catch him wandering around town with his mates at some ungodly hour), but that we had not given him house arrest. You try giving a strong, well-built young man house arrest!  Again, thought but not spoken.

She was duly mollified and we bid each other farewell.

By now you may be asking yourself what was the crime?  If not, then you certainly deserve to have your pocket money docked and to stay home scrubbing the cellar for at least a week.

This young criminal stole a chair from a pub while out with his mates one Saturday night.  Now before you all throw up your hands in horror ...  hands-up all those who have never taken on a dare, or been tempted to do so.  Ha!  Gotcha.  I'm not condoning the unlawful acquisition of other peoples' property, whether it be a chair, a cheap trinket from Woollies or someone else's wife or husband.  We all know that stealing is wrong and should not be encouraged.  If in doubt, look to the tax man or, if he's not at home, a couple of world leaders for confirmation of this fact. 

Back to the stolen chair. Do any of these people seriously believe that a XX year old "yoof " was that interested in acquiring a grotty old pub chair, honestly or otherwise?  Do they really think he intended to drag it all the way home in order to furnish his bedroom  with that extra touch, thus satisfying his obsession with interior decoration?  It could also have occurred to them that, had he really wanted to steal, he might have been more clever about it.

He fully intended to return the chair, and would have done so if he hadn't been prematurely caught. His fault for being so careless, and I told him so. Teenage pranks I can forgive, within reason, but badly thought-out ones - No.  Which is why, having had time to rethink my hastily constructed punishment regime, I have decided to up the ante and make him do his own laundry, empty the dishwasher, cook his own meals and mow the lawn regularly.

On second thoughts, that's what he has to do in the normal run of things.  Hmmn. Who am I to talk about carefully thought-out plans? Or punishments, for that matter?