In the bad books

That's me. Sir Talkalot is barely talking to me. I'll have to rename him Sir Talkalittle if he keeps this up. What have I done now?

Easy. 

He was supposed to be at a friend's house this morning, and I didn't take him. Er, hello? I did try to get him up. He refused. And I had a dental appointment. At 11.15. Now, seriously, if he's still in bed and refusing to get up, what does he expect me to do? Maybe he shouldn't have been up playing computer games half the night.

And then he's equally unhappy because I did pick him up at his friends' house this evening. 11 pm to be precise. (Well, "accurate" really because I only went once.)

He wanted to stay all night. I said no because we've got something on tomorrow -- and hasn't he just proven this morning that he can't get up after a late night?

We agreed on midnight -- well, no, I laid down the law; he acquiesced rather than agreed. But then he rang up today and said there'd been a change of plan, and they were going somewhere else, and he wasn't telling us where because he wanted to stay all night. That's just not on. His penalty was an hour earlier pick-up. So he barely spoke to me all the way home. Tough. We can play it his way or mine. I choose mine.