“I’m not hungry.”
My 7th-grade son has said that the last several nights at dinner time. When asked why, he just shrugs. Tonight it had happened enough times that I was worried, so we pushed the issue. Why aren’t you hungry? Don’t you feel well? When you went over to Grandma’s to watch TV, did you have a snack?
What did you have?
“Umm, a pack of Oreos and two Pop Tarts. I took those over with me.”
A pack of Oreos, as in an entire sleeve of Oreos out of the package? How many is that?
“I don’t know, maybe 12.”
“And I had two chocolate bars.”
“Oh, yeah, and two glasses of milk.”
Gosh, I wonder why he isn’t hungry.
Later, as we were eating, he cheerfully began to recount the tales told by his Geography substitute, who used to be a Marine. How if you’re stationed in the Far East, and you go out and get really wasted, and you wake up the next morning feeling awful, you can drink something alcoholic that has some opium stirred into it, and sleep for about 6 hours, and you’ll wake up feeling fine.
And how opium can get made into heroin, and heroin addicts use a needle to shoot it into their arms like this. [Demonstration of shooting-up motion into a vein]
Ummm, yeah… Those don’t exactly sound like appropriate things for him to tell you. Did he say that he did those things?
“No. But he looks like he’s stuck in the 70s and was probably a hippie. You know, he had his hair like this. [Motion outlining the shape of a long pompadour] They were cool stories!”
(My husband to me, afterward: “Do you want to call, or should I?”)
“Oh, yeah, and Mr. W [his health teacher] was telling us how if you have a hole in your throat, and you take a shower, the water can get into it and you can drown!”
And so forth.
Dinner conversation with an adolescent is never dull.