Hair of The Dog

This is a follow-up to my previous ‘someone mistook my son for a dog in a car’ post.

I’m driving my 13 yr old to his grandparents for a few days. He’s not been able to kip there since March 2019 and needs a few reminders:

ME: Right. Your grandparents won’t be used to the sort of lip that you’re always giving me. So can you reign it in a bit?

SON: Sure thing, Mater.

ME: And change your undies, so Grandma doesn’t tell Grandad to drag them off you.

SON: Yeah yeah yeah.

ME: And just be patient and try and talk about things other than manga and anime and imbecilic YouTubing boys who make loads of money out of kids who lack the wherewithal to pick up a book.

SON: Yep. We’ll have a nice chat about the olden days.

ME: Good.

SON: Or maybe the Dog Poo Problems On The Streets.

ME: Just offer to help with things…be kind. Be thoughtful. Charming. Okay?

SON: Yep.

ME: And get your hair out of your eyes. They’ll want to take you to the barbers, you know.

SON: Urgh. I don’t want it cutting.

ME: So, if Grandad says something about your hair, what will you say?

SON: I’ll say “well, at least I’ve still got my hair.”

ME: No you won’t. You won’t say that at all.

SON: You said “be charming”! They live in Manchester! These people show their deepest affection by hurling insults at each other!