In the wake of almost 16-year-old Hugh's disastrous report card, we've implemented a number of "Get Serious" strategies, including close supervision of all homework and confiscation of his cell phone during study time. (By the way, "his cell phone" is not exactly correct, as we pay for the damn thing.) Yesterday, when I put both mandates into effect, Hugh went ballistic. He actually threw his phone on the table and thundered, "If you touch it, I swear to God, I'll punch you in the face!" Amazing Supermom that I am, I remained calm and later informed him, in a my Total Zennish yet serious and authoritative voice, that I was confiscating his phone for a week. He cried. Sobbed, actually.
I struggled with myself, unsure if such a slight punishment fit the seriousness of the offense.
And then, later that day, I told the story to Nail Lady. She gasped, horrified, and exclaimed, "You're not really going to keep his phone for an entire week, are you?"
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