'Mum's Rules' by Val Harris

I’ve got a hunch mum might be having one of those breakdown things. 

When we arrived home from school yesterday, like, she gave us both a certificate. 

For being so great, right? I was wrong.

It was a set of Rules.

What?

Rule One: if you wish to continue living in this house you will obey the following rules, or you will move to the tent I have put up, in the garden

Rule Two: do not roll your eyes, say ‘whatever’ or ‘like’. 
—What is her problem? This is SO uncool. Like, Rules? 

Rule Three: the toothpaste must be squeezed from the bottom. If not, no toothpaste will be available!

Rule Four: all crockery, and other detritus to be removed daily from rooms.

Rule Five: Any deviation will result in Rule One above.

Rule Six: please use more than a grunt or a single word to respond to a question i.e ‘How was school today?’ ‘It was good, thanks mum.’ NOT ‘err’ or ‘good’
—Doesn’t she know how tired we are?

Rule Seven: refer to Rule Five above.

Rule Eight: do not feed peas to the dog. It makes it smell! 
—She means they make him fart!  Don’t feed us peas!

Rule Nine: you will eat everything I make for you and put on your plate, or Rule One will apply.

Rule Ten: do not kick dirty washing under the bed to fester for days on end! 
—I thought that was her job! I mean, she’s my mother!

Rule Eleven: Rule Ten is not my job! 

Rule Twelve: Now re-read all rules with special attention to Rules One and Five.

Love Mum xx

I’m beginning to think I might break all the rules and go and live in the tent, or is that what…