And the Future Looks Grim

Last weekend, my son slept until 1130am, got dressed, and walked out of the house without speaking to me.  About thirty seconds later, I hear a rhythmic thwacking from the patio. Upon investigation, I find my son taking his hatchet to our patio furniture–vinyl furniture (not that wood would make this any better).

“What are you doing?” I yell.

His arms drop and he slooooowly spins to face me. “huh? what?”

“What are you doing to the patio furniture?” I guess I am hoping that repetition and more details will be helpful in waking him from his woodsman trance.

My son looks at the furniture, then at his hatchet. He literally lolls his head to make eye contact with me. “I don’t know?” (yes, he asked it as a question like some Ambien influenced sleepwalker.)

He then walks over to me, hands me the hatchet, and goes back to bed.

He is not even thirteen yet. Is this my future with a teenage male? 

I must remind myself not to investigate any rhythmic thwacking in the future.

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