I no longer have teenagers in my family. Truth be told? They are now legally adults...by age.
But those teenaged years? Well, they owe me. A lot.
I have discovered the perfect way to extract payment over the years.
Parents: Listen Up!
Kids seem to think that there is some mystical screen across the universe that prevents parents from hearing Their Music. I learned to seek Their Music out and carefully memorize a few phrases at regular intervals. And then, I drop these foreign words into conversation with my kids.
Let the "Moooooom, Stop It!" begin!
"I'm jiggy wid it." Still not exactly sure exactly what that means, but I know it sets them into near seizure each time I say it. So I say it in their presence. Often.
"My man, Fiddy." Who this man is, I have no idea.(Apparently, he invented another million dollar word for my plan: "bling". Like Lil Wayne's teeth. But I digress.) Anytime I mention "Fiddy", my kids roll up like pillbugs. Writhing in agony. Covering their ears. This one is the Secret Weapon, parents.
"Don't be fooled by the rocks that I got, I'm still Jenny from the block." The stars aligned when I learned this phrase: my son was actually dating a girl named Jenny. I mean, could I ask for better material? The real Jenny? She loved it. We're still tight. My son? I think the song could have brought an early end to the relationship. He, apparently,wasn't jiggy wid it.
Currently, the young son has a new girlfriend. Seems to be getting serious. He's going to meet The Parents this weekend.
"If you like it then you should have put a ring on it."
I think I may even be able to pull off a few of the moves from the video. (Oh,oh,oh. Oh, oh, oh.)
It takes so little to entertain me these days.
My man, Fiddy, would be proud.
Coming home and homecoming
10 hours ago