My Keys, My Car

My son, Keith, bless him, is a precious, precious boy. However, he is officially a teen, and by definition requires that the entire world revolve around him. He is actually very thoughtful of others- by teenaged standards, or anyone else's for that matter...

He does have this "thing" that drives me up the wall though: he must have music playing 24/7 and it must be his music.

He has a computer, an I-pod touch, a cell phone and a stereo, all which play music. But that is not enough, it seems. He must also commandeer my car. And it's not enough to listen to the horrific junk that comes from the radio. No. He must also immediately eject all my CD's from my CD player upon entering the vehicle.

Today I called him on it. "Son, please leave my CD player alone."

"But you like Michael Buble'!" (pronounced as though he had just eaten a bite of raw chicken)

"Yes, as a matter of fact I do."

"Why can't we listen to your CD player? My favorite CD is (I'm paraphrasing) The Black Hole of Death that plays, what can be termed loosely as, music, which is actually just one note and one word played over and over again, specifically designed to make parents insane." Keith slumped down into his seat and frowned at the car in front of us.

"Um. No. How about you listen to the radio?"

"Hmfph"

"Okay... How about your I-pod touch?  With your earbuds?"

"That's so not fair! You always get to listen to what you want!"

"Oh, child. If you only knew..." I sighed. "I'm sorry I just really, really can't listen to The Black Hole of Death."

"Why? They're awesome!"

"Well, that's debatable."

"You just have no taste," he sniffed.

"Well, you are out of road." I pulled to our destination, stopped the car and let him out to go into the building.

Then I turned on my Michael Buble' and sang at the top of my lungs. I half-way hoped someone would stop me and ask me whose mother I was just so I could tell them that I was Keith's mother and that sometimes he listened to Michael Buble' in the car with me, too.

After I calmed down a bit, I turned on The Black Hole of Death and chanted along with their female-bashing lyrics and danced all the way to the store. After all, it is my car... Right?