The Chairwitch Project

Sometimes, I wake up and come out to my office and there is a chair from my conference table facing a window. The window is usually partially open.

I call this the Chairwitch Project.

Creepy, but I refuse to figure it out. Ideas?

Is it a cliche if I say my 16 year old hates me?

Lately, living with Yusef is like living with every teenage adjective that's ever been used: angry, sullen, selfish, moody, hateful, accusatory, disbelieving, confrontational, isolated, mournful, and, my favorite, condescending (Miss, if I were [your client] and I'd sat in your dirty car, I don't know what I would have thought about you). 

If I refuse to get pulled into combat and lamaze breathe through the insanity of his attitude, then I get moments of quiet need: standing opposite me in the hallway just listening quietly, poised on the threshold of my bedroom door asking me for help, reading expressively to me from the Hunger Games.  

Hanni thinks Yusef has lost his mind. Their relationship has deteriorated. They are waging a war on each other by taking one another's stuff without asking. They've stopped laughing together. I told them they have 2 weeks to work it out with or without my help then they get a counselor to help them work through it. 

Yusef has isolated himself at school. He doesn't feel like socializing with the other kids. But he works so hard with the teachers, an hour before school and every minute he's there. 

Raising Yusef is such an experience. 

"Miss! Who put my stuff here!!!

"Yusef. I have no idea what you're talking about.

Miss! Come look at it then!!!

I will not."

30 minutes of stomping and angrily folding clothes ensue...

Time to feed the dog.