The Christmas ducks

Ever since I bought my Christmas ducks a few years ago, the teenage boy has taken it upon himself to hide the three ducklings and mom somewhere in my kitchen. As you can see from the picture one of my ducklings is missing.

Christmas ducks

It is my job to find the ducks, and put them back on the counter where they rightly belong during the Christmas season. I never know when he is going to make them disappear and it drives me crazy. The other day when I noticed them missing and the teenage boy was out, I sent him a text. This was our conversation (note: Offensive language).

Mom: Where are my ducks?
Teenage boy: Hidden.
Mom: Damn you.
Teenage boy: Ha Ha.
Mom: They better be in the kitchen somewhere?
Teenage boy: Mhm.
Mom: They better be in the kitchen, those are the rules.
Teenage boy: They are.
Mom: Damn you. I have looked and looked.
Teenage boy: I’m not giving you any hints.
Mom: Damn you. You are making me grey very fast.
Teenage boy: You’re 51. I don’t think it’s me.
Mom: You are in deep shit for that comment.
Teenage boy: Maybe I’ll buy you hair dye and a walker for Christmas. The nursing home at Sackville gives free tours.
Mom: I don’t know how to respond to that.
Teenage boy: Preferably without anymore profanity.
Mom: Fuck, fuck, and fuck.