OD: Can u bring me fried rice after work? Didn't bring money.
ME: Sure. What to drink?
OD: Sprite. And can you bring a t-shirt?
ME: What do you mean? You need a new shirt?
OD: No, a crappy one I can move in. We have dancing rehearsal too.
ME: I'm not driving home before I deliver your rice.
(Note to self - must discuss overabundance of the word "crap" in this conversation.)
MOM HORMONE KICKS IN. THIS TOOK THREE TEXTS TO GET IT ALL OUT.
ME: I'm sorry, but I have to drive YD to the mall to find an outfit for the Variety Show on Fri night, I'm losing my mind over getting the show coordinated, and I'm trying to get caught up at work. You're going to have to be a little more responsible for your own things at your extra-cirricular activities, because we don't have time to drive all over town delivering food and clothing to you at various satellite locations. I have shirts at work that say "Bee a Happy Hooker" and that is your option. Do you want a hooker shirt? Do you?!
ME: Seriously, do you want the hooker shirt or not? Because that's all I got. Hooker shirt and fried rice. I'm out of options.
OD: No hooker shirt. I'm sorry.
Which honestly I was a little relieved to hear, because not only do I not want my teen wearing a hooker shirt, but I would've had to sort of lift it from work, and then pay for it later, and then hope no one saw me on the surveillance cameras walking out of the building with it before I paid, and then have to explain, "Oh, I was stealing it for my teenage daughter. She is in a dance number."
In the interim, I'm a little frazzled. Re-entry into the non-vacay world has been harsh. I'm going to call my mom and ask her to bring me some fried rice and a new shirt and see what happens.