And the brat is a sullen teen

The brat stomped into the room. He was tantrumming over something. I cant remember what about since he goes through an average of ten tantrums every hour. He stomped out, went into his room, having delivered his speil and slammed the door. Hard. The door shuddered in the frame. I shuddered in my pyjamas. He stayed sullen behind the closed door for close on five minutes until he decided to come take a peek as to why his anger was not being assuaged by fervent pleas by mamma to make things right.

"Mamma. Mamma." he called from behind the door. "I am angry."

Mamma played deaf.

"I am very angry."

Mamma continued to play deaf.

"You have made my life hell."

Mamma rose and closed the door on him.

*******

The brat sat in front of the idiot box and shovelled his meal into his mouth. Power Rangers Mystic Force team members were busy decimating "Evils" hiding inside Papier Mache costumes.

Mamma, mamma, squeaked the brat.

Mamma raised a desultory eye from the book she was engrossed in.

Lookit it the megawarrior morpher, he squeaked. Judging from his expression, this was his equivalent of Mamma's drool on the floor for a pair of gold python Jimmy Choos.

Isnt it just OSSUMM!

Mamma dropped into a dead faint.

*********

The brat and mamma needed to travel by auto, the driver being sent off on some errand that could brook no waiting by Pappa. The brat draped himself, asparagus like on the side of another car, while Mamma attempted the valiant task of hailing an auto while on a crowded main road, while simultaneously balancing brat's school bag, her umbrella, handbag and other assorted bags which bore vegetables, and exciting items of domesticity like washing soap and tea powder.

The brat, bored, poked a hole into the thin plastic which contained around three combined kilos of onions and potatoes. The plastic, under such continued assault, gave way with an apologetic rip, and the mucky road was inundated with onions, potatoes and a squealing mamma as she rushed to scoop those that escaped oncoming traffic.

When the crisis had been dealt with, an auto found, and Mamma, brats, and bags safely in its confines, Mamma asked the brat, what necessitated such delinquent behavior.

I wuz boredt. He replied in sullen manner.

Mamma launched into her standard speech about how such things cost money, and how we should respect money, etc, and not waste or damage things. Or when we grew up we would not be blessed with the resources we currently took for granted.

Is okay. I don like onion. Is yuck.

And shrugged his shoulders to indicate the conversation was over.

********

The brat and mamma went down in the lift together to the park. The moment we stepped out into the lobby, the brat deliberately maintaining a ten foot distance between mamma and himself.

Wait for me, mamma yelled, acutely conscious of speeding cars which donot consider being in residential compounds as adequate reason to reduce speed levels.

No, yelled the brat back. I is going widaoud you.  Everyone will laffatme if I come holding my mamma's hand.