If you ask me, it may be that you have a “boomerang kid” in your midst, or at least an adult child who is home from university for the summer. If so, here is my list of the things that boomerang kids or adult children who are home from university from the summer have yet to ever say, alas:
I can’t sleep nights if I know I’ve left my trainers, backpack and several hoodies in the hall.
I just don’t know what class of person would eat at the fridge door like a one-man plague of locusts and then do the most massive sneeze before closing it.
I can’t be expected to lounge on the sofa and watch the cricket on Sky all day.
I wish you’d take the time to sit down and really talk to me, Mum.
Please don’t pick up any beer next time you go to the shops, or cider.
I’ve worn out the soles of my shoes looking for a summer job.
If you have any respect for the living space of others, you’ve got to return towels to the bathroom, haven’t you?
I’m now going to walk the dog I always said I’d walk, if we got one.
I’d much rather stay in with you both and watch Who Do You Think You Are? than go to an all-night rave in Vauxhall, come in at 6am, bang the front door, trip over the dog, vomit on the landing, then get up around 4pm with a face as white as a Geisha girl.
I hope you feel you can give me unsolicited advice whenever you so fancy.
Did you know whites and coloureds should be washed separately and never thrown into the machine in one big, mixed jumble?
Please, please, don’t lend me a tenner; you’re not a bank.
Why would anyone wish to wear big noise-cancelling headphones everywhere; you might as well build a wall between yourself and other members of the household, ffs!
Mum, you just don’t push hard enough when it comes to trying to find out about my sex life and what drugs I’m doing.
I’d happily welcome any financial budgeting tips you’d care to give.
Anyone who puts empty packets and cereal boxes back in the cupboard because they can’t be bothered to put them in the bin is a dick.
Shall I write out those times I’ll be eating with you and the times I won’t be eating with you? To spare you from all those last-minute under-catering panics and over-catering irritations?
Please don’t give me a lift; you’re not a taxi.
I wish I didn’t have to go back to uni in September.
It’s so cool, being treated as a child again; bring it on.
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