Simspiration Prompt: Waiting up for your teenager to come home
I had planned on posting this last week when I first saw the prompt. Then real life got in the way and it took me longer to finish than I thought. So have it now, and enjoy.
Rosalie tapped her foot in double time to the striking of the clock. One, two , three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve. She began pacing the living room floor again, her face contorting with anger.
“Why does he do this to me?” she hissed through her clenched teeth. “His brother is a perfect angel.”
She’d nodded at her eldest two boys over dinner earlier that night when they asked permission to go to the basketball game at school. “Be home by ten,” she’d said. That was their curfew on weekends. Franklin, bless him, had gotten home at nine-thirty. He’d knocked on her bedroom door, announced that he was home, and given her a good night kiss before heading off to bed. She asked where his older twin Douglas was, and Franklin had replied that he’d gone to grab a bite with some of his friends.
As the clock struck ten, she’d done her nightly rounds to makes sure all her children were sleeping soundly in their beds. Franklin was still awake, reading, and she’d clucked at him and told him to go to sleep when he finished the chapter. By the time she made it downstairs, it was ten-fifteen, and there was no sign of her eldest.
“How typical,” she muttered. “And Bruce is away on business, of course, so I have to wait up for him and try to knock some sense into him when he gets home.”
She picked up a book and went to the living room; from there, she could see the stairs so when Douglas got home, she’d see him and be able to catch him before sneaking up to his bedroom.
When the clock had struck eleven-thirty, she’d closed her book and gone to the window. “Where is that boy?” she hissed, trying to keep her voice down so she didn’t wake the other children. When she saw nothing, she returned to the sofa, glaring at the ancient grandfather clock, willing her son to come home.
Now that it was gone midnight, she rose again and went back to the window. This time, she was rewarded by a shadowy figure creeping towards the house; she recognized the silhouette as that of her eldest son. She moved to the short hallway just off the foyer and waited.
Douglas opened the front door as softly as he could. It probably would have been smarter to try and sneak in the back of the house, but that was also where his mother’s bedroom was, and he didn’t want to risk getting caught. Once inside, he closed it just as quietly. The lights downstairs were all off and everything was quiet. The only sound he heard was the faint ticking of the grandfather clock in the living room. He silently released the breath he’d been holding. It looked like he was going to get away with breaking curfew.
Just as his foot was about to touch the first step, a voice came out of the darkness.
“Where have you been, young man?”
Douglas’ heart skipped a beat. “Geez, Ma. You nearly gave me a heart attack.”
“How do you think I feel, worrying about where you’ve been for the past two hours?”
“I was just hanging with my friends. Gerald finally finished his set of wheels, and we took some paper shakers out for burgers at the drive-in.”
“Douglas, your curfew is ten. It’s now past midnight. You, mister, are grounded. No hanging with your friends, no Gerald and his new car, and definitely no cheerleaders as the paper shakers should properly be called.”
“Aw, Ma, cool it. Don’t be a square.”
“Excuse me?” Rosalie spat. “You do not talk to me like that, Douglas. Up to your room and to bed, NOW. If I catch you setting one toe outside of this house, I swear you won’t leave it at all except for school until you turn eighteen.”
“But Ma…”
“No buts. Upstairs. Now.”
Douglas gave his mother a glare as he turned and stomped up the stairs.
“Don’t you go waking everyone up with your racket!” she shouted after him, realizing that she was being very hypocritical in that moment. “Just you wait until your father gets home!”
Her answer was the slamming of his door.
Rosalie leaned against the wall and sighed. Less than a second later, she heard a small voice from upstairs.
“Mommy!”
Rosalie groaned. Douglas had woken everyone up, and now she’d have to get the little ones settled again. As if getting them to bed on a normal night was challenge enough for her.
“You’ll regret this behavior, Douglas Thorne. Mark my words,” she said to herself as she marched up the stairs.
Rosalie tapped her foot in double time to the striking of the clock. One, two , three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve. She began pacing the living room floor again, her face contorting with anger.
“Why does he do this to me?” she hissed through her clenched teeth. “His brother is a perfect angel.”
She’d nodded at her eldest two boys over dinner earlier that night when they asked permission to go to the basketball game at school. “Be home by ten,” she’d said. That was their curfew on weekends. Franklin, bless him, had gotten home at nine-thirty. He’d knocked on her bedroom door, announced that he was home, and given her a good night kiss before heading off to bed. She asked where his older twin Douglas was, and Franklin had replied that he’d gone to grab a bite with some of his friends.
As the clock struck ten, she’d done her nightly rounds to makes sure all her children were sleeping soundly in their beds. Franklin was still awake, reading, and she’d clucked at him and told him to go to sleep when he finished the chapter. By the time she made it downstairs, it was ten-fifteen, and there was no sign of her eldest.
“How typical,” she muttered. “And Bruce is away on business, of course, so I have to wait up for him and try to knock some sense into him when he gets home.”
She picked up a book and went to the living room; from there, she could see the stairs so when Douglas got home, she’d see him and be able to catch him before sneaking up to his bedroom.
When the clock had struck eleven-thirty, she’d closed her book and gone to the window. “Where is that boy?” she hissed, trying to keep her voice down so she didn’t wake the other children. When she saw nothing, she returned to the sofa, glaring at the ancient grandfather clock, willing her son to come home.
Now that it was gone midnight, she rose again and went back to the window. This time, she was rewarded by a shadowy figure creeping towards the house; she recognized the silhouette as that of her eldest son. She moved to the short hallway just off the foyer and waited.
Douglas opened the front door as softly as he could. It probably would have been smarter to try and sneak in the back of the house, but that was also where his mother’s bedroom was, and he didn’t want to risk getting caught. Once inside, he closed it just as quietly. The lights downstairs were all off and everything was quiet. The only sound he heard was the faint ticking of the grandfather clock in the living room. He silently released the breath he’d been holding. It looked like he was going to get away with breaking curfew.
Just as his foot was about to touch the first step, a voice came out of the darkness.
“Where have you been, young man?”
Douglas’ heart skipped a beat. “Geez, Ma. You nearly gave me a heart attack.”
“How do you think I feel, worrying about where you’ve been for the past two hours?”
“I was just hanging with my friends. Gerald finally finished his set of wheels, and we took some paper shakers out for burgers at the drive-in.”
“Douglas, your curfew is ten. It’s now past midnight. You, mister, are grounded. No hanging with your friends, no Gerald and his new car, and definitely no cheerleaders as the paper shakers should properly be called.”
“Aw, Ma, cool it. Don’t be a square.”
“Excuse me?” Rosalie spat. “You do not talk to me like that, Douglas. Up to your room and to bed, NOW. If I catch you setting one toe outside of this house, I swear you won’t leave it at all except for school until you turn eighteen.”
“But Ma…”
“No buts. Upstairs. Now.”
Douglas gave his mother a glare as he turned and stomped up the stairs.
“Don’t you go waking everyone up with your racket!” she shouted after him, realizing that she was being very hypocritical in that moment. “Just you wait until your father gets home!”
Her answer was the slamming of his door.
Rosalie leaned against the wall and sighed. Less than a second later, she heard a small voice from upstairs.
“Mommy!”
Rosalie groaned. Douglas had woken everyone up, and now she’d have to get the little ones settled again. As if getting them to bed on a normal night was challenge enough for her.
“You’ll regret this behavior, Douglas Thorne. Mark my words,” she said to herself as she marched up the stairs.