Junior makes a cup of tea.
I walk into the kitchen a minute later.
Cupboard doors still open, torn remains of tea bag sachet on counter, box of tea sitting randomly on counter, sugar container left on bench etc etc.
I tell Junior to come back and clean up after himself.
Grump, grump, grump, off he goes.
20 minutes later, he makes a 2nd cup.
I go into the kitchen. Cupboard doors open, remains of tea bag sachet on counter, box of tea left out, sugar still on bench etc etc.
Junior gets told a 2nd time.
Response: "Why are you always telling me to do things? I hate it!" (another variation is, "I know what to do - stop telling me what to do all the time").
"Well, if you cleaned up after yourself, like you are supposed to, I wouldn't have to tell you to do it, would I?"
Unfortunately, that astounding logic has not penetrated his teenage brain covering.
The more I think about it, the more I reckon the voting age should be lifted to 30.
He's currently in that state of mind where he likes to do the pleasurable things in life - the fun and interesting things - but is totally uninterested in lifting a finger to do the unpleasant, dirty and difficult tasks. Like cleaning up after himself. I know he will snap out of it one day (or, pending that, J will beat him out of it), but it makes me wonder about the welfare mentality where people carry on at age 45 for instance like they did when they were 12. They refuse to accept that as an adult, you have adult responsibilities - the welfare state allows them to dump those responsibilities on their "parents" (ie, the taxpayer).
Junior still expects that someone else will clean up after him - us, the house fairy, whatever. He thinks he can just drop his dirty socks on the floor, and they will reappear magically in his sock drawer some time later, clean, dry and folded. The bit in the middle - usually known as "work" - is an alien concept to be avoided at all costs; and if forced to undertake it, it should be done as slowly as possible, with the maximum amount of complaining about "rights" and other such nonsense.
It's no wonder I was packed off to boarding school by my parents. So much less stressful to just avoid your kids until they turn 20 or so, and become reasonably sentient humans.