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.
Cookies and Communion
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