Sainthood

I have been sitting in one room of my house, overhearing a discussion in the next room between my husband and my 16-year-old. And can I say that my husband is a saint? They're having a discussion about whether my son should get to play a certain computer game that he wants to play (our boundaries are considerably more restrictive than all of his friends' and he thinks that it's quite unfair, unreasonable and unnecessary). For every two words that my husband says, he is interrupted by derisive comments, ADHD changes of subject, annoying random noises and puffs of disgust. By now I would have either strangled my son or run screaming into the night. And still he sits there, my husband, the voice of reason and patience. In a million years, I'll never attain it.

* I have to add, however, that he (my 16-year-old) has made great strides in his ability to have a conversation, an exchange of ideas. There's still a fair amount of progress to be made, mind you, but I don't want to sell him short.