Adolescents’ appalling actions pay back parents

The other evening I looked across a crowded room to see two of my children (I won’t name names because I don’t want to embarrass my only son, who is 17, or his 9-year-old sister) standing in a public place, happily punching and shoving one another. I walked over to where they were and whispered, “Will you two cut it out and act your age.”

I had the strangest feeling that I was hearing my mother’s voice.

Twenty years ago, before my children were born, my family, old friends and neighbors were all gathered after the funeral of a relative. My sister came up and asked me to stand guard outside the bathroom door for her.

The house was small and the bathroom was located in the center of the hallway that ran the length of the house, in full view of anyone sitting in the living room.

“Why don’t you just lock it,” I asked. I had a plate full of homemade “sympathy” food and I didn’t want to get up.

“The door can be opened even if it’s locked,” she hissed.

“No it can’t.”

“Yes it can, so I need you to stand outside the door.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” she said. “Now will you just stand there for a minute?”

“Oh, good grief.” I pushed my chair away from the table. “Alright.”

I followed her to the bathroom, and heard the door lock behind her. I waited, leaning against the wall, looking at my fingernails.

I still wasn’t convinced that the door could be opened as easily as she said, especially if it had been locked. So I decided to give it a little test.

Without stopping to think things through, I gave the door a solid bump with my hip, and, you know, she was right. The door flew open, crashing into the bathroom wall with a loud, attention grabbing, noise.

My sister, who up to this point had been innocently going about her business, so to speak, safe behind a secure and guarded bathroom door, froze. Like a deer in the headlights she was a doe-eyed, whitetail caught in the unblinking glare of a roomful of startled eyes.

Apologizing, I reached into the bathroom, feeling frantically for the doorknob. But I was laughing so hard I could barely stand up. Finally, snorting and choking, I managed to pull the door closed.

It reopened immediately and my sister, red-faced and hotter than a bag of popcorn in the microwave, exploded out of the bathroom.

I saw the look in her eye and sprinted down the hallway, still laughing. She was right on my heels.

Now, remember, we were both grown-up, married women. In fact, she was the mother of two little children.

And, this wasn’t a family picnic. It was a somber gathering after the funeral of a loved one. But there we were, carrying on like Laverne and Shirley.

After I “outed” my sister to our entire family, my mother (who had been known to cause a few scenes in her day) came up to both of us and told us to knock it off. As a parting shot she looked over her shoulder and pointed out that the handful of children in the group were better behaved than we were.

“For heaven’s sake,” she said, “Act your age.”

It’s not my mother’s voice. It’s just me saying the same words to my own children.

I guess I deserve whatever I get.