Y is for Yeah. As in "Yeah, Mum." Which is quite often the entire limits of a teenager's conversation with his mother. As in:

"Don't forget your coursework."

"Yeah Mum".

"Your bedroom's a tip. It's time you tidied it."

"Yeah Mum."

"If you don't get a move on, you're going to miss the bus."

"Yeah Mum."

"Don't try and get served in the pub because you know you're under age."

"Yeah Mum."

"It would be nice if you could occasionally manage to clear the table and actually wash your dirty dishes."

"Yeah Mum."

If they can really be bothered to exert themselves and try and contribute a bit more to the conversation, there is a variation on this. As in:

"Have you thought about your options for next year yet? It's time you did."

"Yeah Mum..." ...big pause while he considers that these choices could map out his entire future. He struggles with the concept of something beyond the next edition of The Simpsons, tries to manage the enormity of it all and put it into words...

"Yeah Mum." - sigh - "Whatever."

And so you retire defeated. You've fallen into the classic parent trap of communicating only to nag. And he's fallen into the classic adolescent pattern of ignoring you.

Congratulations. Identical scenes are being played out all over the country, all over the world. And have done since the dawn of time. Parents worry and nag, teenagers shrug and walk away.

Sometimes, just for a change, they look at you almost bright-eyed and smiling and respond brightly "Yes Mother!"

Don't be fooled. They still have absolutely no intention of doing what you ask. They just know that you are so anxious for their welfare, so pathetically easily pleased that a nice bright polite answer will keep you quieter for much longer. Sad thing is, they're right.

But not about everything. Y is also for YOUNG. And the problem with teenagers is that they are still young. Unfortunately, all their hormones and instincts are telling them that they are old enough to take charge of their own lives, to go drinking, travel the world, make their own decisions, have a sex life, stay up late, out all night and in bed all day.

You are the brake on their enthusiasm and their headlong dash to destruction. And to think you used to worry about nappy rash.

Y is also for YOUTH CLUB.

Sounds healthy and wholesome, doesn't it? A nice safe place where your teenager can play table tennis, listen to music, drink orange juice. Like something out of a Cliff Richard film.

Well yes. There are no doubt plenty of places like that doing a decent job of keeping teenagers amused and off the streets and out of trouble.

They are also, sadly, the perfect alibi.

Senior Son used to go to a youth club on a Friday night. Well, he might have gone once. The rest of the time he just said that was where he was going. I even used to go and pick him up. I'd sit there in the car and he and his mates would come whooping round the corner.

So much jollity on table tennis and orange juice?

It didn't take the mind of Morse to work out that while I thought he was safely in a youth club, he was actually staggering round the pubs of Richmond. In the car on the way home he would talk Very Carefully and smell of extra strong mints.

"You are too young to do this," I would say, building up to full nagging mother mode. "It is illegal, unhealthy, unsafe and downright stupid."

He would slump in the passenger seat and I knew already what his response would be.

"Yeah Mum. Yes Mother... Whatever."

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