My middle son (18) asked me to take him into town today to buy a gift for a school friend - Something to cheer her up a little after her father died. I thought, 'What a nice sentiment.’
I dropped him in town on my way to the library for the meeting of my writers’ group. He was going to meet me there after he found a gift.
This is what he brought.
He was completely at a loss to my horror in his choice.
‘But Nightmare Before Christmas is her favourite show,’ he said. ‘What’s wrong with buying her this?’
What answer should I choose? There were so many. I finally decided on. ‘Her father just died and you are giving her a solar powered bobble headed skeleton to cheer her up! Nice.’
I know he means well, but the bizarreness of how the teenage mind works completely eludes me at times. This is not a good sign for someone trying to write YA fiction.
I dropped him in town on my way to the library for the meeting of my writers’ group. He was going to meet me there after he found a gift.
This is what he brought.
He was completely at a loss to my horror in his choice.
‘But Nightmare Before Christmas is her favourite show,’ he said. ‘What’s wrong with buying her this?’
What answer should I choose? There were so many. I finally decided on. ‘Her father just died and you are giving her a solar powered bobble headed skeleton to cheer her up! Nice.’
I know he means well, but the bizarreness of how the teenage mind works completely eludes me at times. This is not a good sign for someone trying to write YA fiction.
No comments:
Post a Comment