Joe Came Home At Midnight Last Night

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I don't know what to do with that boy. His curfew is 11:30, which I think is perfectly reasonable for a boy of sixteen who does not drive. He's been pressing me to push his curfew back, saying that everyone he knows stays out until two in the morning. Whether this is true or not is irrelevant. That boy should be grounded. His only areas of responsibility in this house are the basement and his bedroom. The basement is perpetually dirty with pop cans, half-eaten bags of chips, video games strewn everywhere, and who could forget the huge basketball shoes and expensive articles of clothing strewn anywhere and everywhere. And if this wasn't bad enough, his bedroom is worse. I'm talking literally disgusting. As in, 'Let's look for the mold,' disgusting. I don't go in there often. You don't even have to walk in the room to catch a whiff of its stench. He was supposed to clean yesterday, but yesterday was the Super Bowl. I told him he could hang out with his friends, so I had his sister drop him off, and he was supposed to be home at 11:30. He won't have a conversation with me; every time we talk it's an argument. When I ground him and take away the Xbox the attitude is even worse. He spends all his time in that nasty basement and I don't know what to do with that boy!





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