Truth is both the fur child and the Drama Teen have got me sussed, well and truly. They have both figured out how to work the system. Sad eyes and a general air of hopelessness is normally enough - and they both know it.
Several times a week, the furry one often ends up getting carried home from our walk perched on my shoulder like a parrot having gone on a lie down strike and insisted in dog speak that he is really far too tired to walk up the big, bad hill.
So I pick him up. He has little legs and he probably is weary, I figure.
Yeah right. The same little ball of energy has twice this week bounded up and down Mouth Cooth-tha without a care in the world and with more than enough energy to spare to race ahead along the track or cool off in a mountain stream. He quite literally runs rings around me.
Fact is, why would you do the boring stuff if someone else will do it for you?
It is pretty much exactly the same philosophy adopted by the two-legged offspring when it comes to tidying the bedroom or loading the dishwasher or taking out the rubbish.
I know they are working the system (where the system is me) and I resolve to be tougher but then they look at me and give me those puppy dog eyes ... At least the drama teen doesn't expect me to carry him up the hill on my shoulder. Nope, he expects me to bring the car.