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Home › Articles › Essays › R. J. Learns A Lesson

R. J. Learns A Lesson

By Donna Stone

Pages:  1  2  

It started out like any other day. I dragged R. J.* out of his bed at the crack of 10:30 a.m. He slunk around the house, ignoring his siblings for the most part, except to wish them a good morning in his own unique way, giving out shoves and growls to all. He is always very fair and even-handed about the way he treats his brothers. After eating a breakfast large enough to satiate Paul Bunyan, he rested in the recliner for a half-hour or so before mustering the strength to turn on his computer. R. J. is a computer freak. He has been building Web pages and writing programs since he was 10 or so, and is my own personal technical help hotline. He often goes to friends' and acquaintances' homes to solve all sorts of computer dilemmas. The kid makes more at his part-time job in cyber-space than I make working in the REAL world. He's a pretty bright kid. In some areas.

teen R. J. has been itching to get a new computer program. Soon after he counted all his Christmas green, while I counted my Christmas red, he began asking to use my check card to order the coveted software. To buy it locally he would have to special order it and wait a week or even longer. Besides, he found it online for $5 cheaper. My check card is also a Visa and can be used in the same way as a credit card, but it automatically deducts from the checking account instead of billing at the end of the month. He assured me that he could afford to buy the software and would pay me back. Eyeing my checkbook balance, I told him we would do it later.

Well, as we all know, parents of teens are very slow and stupid, and forget everything important, like who Susie is going with, and that blue is no longer a favorite color. It should be no great surprise that I forgot all about the urgency of ordering software.

That afternoon (or morning, in teenage-speak) shortly after R. J. flipped the switch to start his computer, the oh-so familiar brown delivery truck pulled into our driveway. Suddenly, R. J. was galvanized into action. He yelled, "That's for me!" and dashed out the door. Really, I didn't sense anything amiss, at least not right away. R. J. is an expert at ferreting out free offers for all kinds of things, from toothpaste to videos. Between his freebies and my own purchases for our home business, the UPS guy was a regular visitor. The kids were all dancing around, doing their wild ape imitations that delivery people seem to inspire in all young humans, when I heard someone say, "Lemme see the invoice." A tussle between R. J. and his not-so-little brother ensued. The instigator eventually became the victor, and with obvious glee read aloud the dollar amount printed on the invoice. Two faces looked at me expectedly, one a little pasty with a tinge of green around the mouth, and the other wearing a huge impish grin, his eyes darting from parent to child as if he were watching a tennis game.

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