Tuesday, August 24, 2010

What. The. Fuck.

So my brilliant child, in his infinite wisdom, had decided to smoke. He's 14.

I was smelling cigarette smoke in the house and I couldn't figure out why. I asked him, and he denied denied denied.

He went camping with friends yesterday, and after he left Hubbs called me and said there was a pack of cigarettes missing from his purchase the night before.

So I tossed his room. And what did I find? 2 empty packs of cigs, our missing white lighter, and his ashtray. Which is a metal coin bank that belonged to my dead mother. My dead mother!

I know kids do as we do and not as we say, but he has seen me struggle with quitting. What in the name of all that is holy would even make him think this was a good idea?

He'll be home this evening, and boy is he in for a big surprise. I already took his computer out of his room, and I'll be taking his cell phone as well. And of course, grounded until we decide he's not anymore. I'm not even giving him a time frame.

Silly fucker.

I know I shouldn't feel guilty, kids experiment, and even kids that have parents who don't smoke pick up the habit. But I do. I really, really do.

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