The battle heats up

This weekend I've been fighting the age old battle, not of good vs. evil, but of parent vs. child. As his thirteenth birthday looms dangerously around the corner, my son is beginning to think I'm as dumb as a stump. The weekend breathy sighs resonated throughout the house, and eyes were rolled skyward as I constantly badgered him to clean his room. My patience tested to ts end, I contacted the most knowlegable child expert, my mommy.

It really didn't do much good though, she only reminded me of my short-comings as a child. I was a very rebellious teen. I wore jeans to church on Sunday nights. My dad really didn't care about the jeans at night services, just as long as I was in church; Mama was horrified though. After Daddy died, I got real rebellious. One fine summer day, I was riding my horse a couple of hours before night services. She said, "I don't care how you get there, but I want you in church tonight. She should have specified what mode of transportation I took. A couple of hours later I arrived at church. Mom flashed me a "You knew you'd better come look,' from her seat in the pew. She thought she'd won until church released after services.

"I want you to take your cousin home for me."

"I don't think that's possible," I said, coolly staring at my nails.

"Why on earth not? Wait a minute, where's your car?"

"My ride is over there," I said, pointing at my palomino mare, saddled and grazing at the end of a picket line. I saw the furious _expression in my mother's eyes, and thought an explanation was in order. "You said 'get here,' you didn't say how." Mother rolled her eyes and stormed away. I won that battle.

And now as I look back on this past weekend, I see myself in the same position she was in so many years ago. Yes, the challenge as been made, and in yet another generation, the battle wages on.