I Hate Tattle-tales!
This morning, as I was brushing my hair and getting ready to leave for work, my younger son comes into the bathroom and says, “You know that can of air on your computer? You won’t be able to use it anymore. Because Brother used it all up and it won’t go anymore. It’s empty.”
Now, the can of air cost me $15 and was brand new. I had used it exactly once. So I’m not pleased at all with number one son. He will be replacing my compressed air with his own money, of course.
But number two son is such a nasty little tattler. It makes me sick. It’s like he derives some sort of twisted pleasure from seeing his brother in trouble.
So he was pretty shocked when it was him that I lit into, instead of his brother. But I can tolerate a waster far better than a sneaky tattle-tale.
1 Comment
Wish my mom would have been like you. My brother was always too happy to see me in trouble and she was blinded by his fake sweetness. Ick.