Anyway, it all started with a BBC broadcast on the way to school. A voice with an Italian accent read out excerpts from Machiavelli. Apparently, the excerpts were shockingly evil in their content. So I questioned why they were listening to them at all. So began an amusing exchange between father and son.
Daddy: My son is so intellectual that he refuses to listen to pop music on the way to school, preferring meatier fare from BBC.
The Son: Noooooo... it is because your selection of pop music is so repetitive. Anything is better than that.
Daddy: **with a perfectly straight face** My son is a renaissance man. He can fight and write.
The Son: **roll eyes** Splutter!
Me: Ohhhhh! My son is like Leonardo da Vinci. He is the reincarnation of Leonardo da Vinci.
Daddy: Ahhhhh! My son is better. Leonardo da Vinci cannot code computer programmes. My son can code.
Me: Trudat! Our son is better than Leonardo da Vinci.
The Son: **glowering at me**
Me: Heyyyy... how come you don't glower at your Daddy? He was the one who started with "renaissance man". How come when I praise you, you get all mad?
For some strange reason, The Son has evolved to be like his sister. He keeps downplaying his triumphs and saying that he is not good enough. Every time I tell him I am proud of him, he gets peeved... and I am not allowed to blog about his triumphs either! Then, when I play along with his I-am-not-good-enough line, I get knocked on the head for not having faith in him. The conversation unfurled as follows.
The Son: **to change the subject** Oh, by the way, we got into Finals.
Me: Oh! You did!? You got into Finals!?
The Son: **looking peeved again** Mom! I ALWAYS get into Finals! How come you even doubt that I can get into Finals!?
Now, you tell me. Is it fair?! Sheesh! A mother cannot do anything right! You know what... teenaged sons are idiots!! Certainly nothing like Leonardo da Vinci, who, I am certain, was much nicer to his Mom.