While making cookies, I called up to my 15 year old son to ask if he could open the vanilla bottle for me. He shouted down, “who’s the man of the house?”
This has been an ongoing debate at our house for a few months. He keeps declaring he is the man of the house, I keep reminding him that adult and who is the child.
But right then and there, I really needed that bottle opened.
So I gave in.
“You are the man of the house,” I said in a monotone voice. I heard the triumphant feet coming down the stairs, and he looked at me and smirked as he opened the bottle.
Ah. 15. That magical age. I couldn’t judge him too harshly as he is trying to figure out what it is to be a man. So I asked him, what does it mean for you to be the man of the house? Well, I am the only male here so I am the man of the house.