**Teenage Troubles**
Dina and Arthur divorced because they couldnt agree on parenting. Each blamed the other in their own way.
*»Arthur never took responsibility, so I had to handle everything from the moment Oliver was born,»* Dina would say.
*»My ex-wife couldnt relaxshe micromanaged everything, turned motherhood into a minefield of rules, and sucked all the joy out of raising a child,»* Arthur told his mates.
Oliver was fourteen, living with his mum most of the time but spending weekends with his dadfour days a month. Though theyd split nearly eleven years ago, neither had remarried. Arthur lived alone in his late mothers flat; shed passed from a long illness seven years back.
When Oliver stayed with Arthur, especially lately, Dina caught a breatherthough she still fretted. Shed never call her ex *responsible*.
*»Jokes and fun? Thats his specialty. But a serious, steady relationship? Impossible. Things were fine till Oliver came along,»* shed sigh to her mum or best friend.
Arthur barely lifted a finger when Oliver was small. Dina embraced motherhood; he never quite clicked into fatherhood. Resentments piled up until they splitamicably, at least. Arthur, relieved, agreed to keep seeing his son.
*»Whats the point arguing with someone whoss always right?»* hed muttered at the time.
Eleven years on, Arthur hadnt remarried (*once was enough*), but career-wise? Thriving. Ironically, his *playfulness* paid offhe designed video games, earning a tidy sum.
One evening, Dina tidied the kitchen, then scowled at the bathroom light left on. *»Honestly, this boy. Just like his father.»* Ignoring the *»DO NOT ENTER»* sign on Olivers door, she barged in.
He was glued to his screen, barely glancing up.
*»Oliver, flipping a switch isnt rocket science. Youre not a toddler.»*
*»Yeah, yeah,»* he grunted.
*»Half an hour, then homework. You *do* remember your maths test tomorrow?»*
Thirty minutes later, he hadnt budged. She yanked the plug. Oliver rolled his eyes, hissed under his breath, and grabbed his history book.
As she peeled potatoes for tomorrows soup, Dina wondered: *»How much longer will this teenage phase last? A year ago, he turned into a different creaturemoody, defiant. But if this goes on, Ill lose my mind.»*
Saturday arrived. Arthur pulled up, and Oliver barrelled out.
*»Dad! Finally!»*
*»Did you pack your textbooks?»* Dina called.
*»Ugh, Mum, not *again*,»* Oliver groaned, hefting his bag and vanishing out the door.
Arthur caught the usual parting shot: *»Help him with maths, the test is coming upand *no*, pizza isnt a food group!»*
The car ride was pure mischief.
*»So, whats the plan?»* Arthur asked.
*»Cinema, then the park!»* Oliver grinned. *»And firstpizza!»* They both cracked up.
Now that Oliver was older, Arthur had cracked the code: friendship. Not lectures, just shared time, easy chatsno nagging.
*»Hows school?»*
*»Fine, Dad. Ive got it.»*
*»Course you do. But if youre stuck, well sort it.»*
*»Its just my history teachershes got it in for me. PEs the only decent class.»*
Once they left, Dina sighed. *»Of course hes thrilled. Now that the hard works done, Dad swoops in as the fun uncle. Meanwhile, Im left with the sloghomework, chores, *actual* parenting.»*
Sunday evening, Arthur dropped Oliver home.
*»Brilliant weekend, mate. Go on, dash inside.»*
*»Thanks, Dadyoure the best!»*
Monday brought a parent-teacher meeting. Dinas stomach knotted as the teacher slid over Olivers report: a smattering of Cs, a B in PE, and *two fails*history and maths.
*»Hes bright but lazy. And he games *in class*,»* the teacher said.
Dina stormed home, fury rising. *»No more laptop till those grades improvethough *how*, with term ending?!»* She marched into Olivers room, snapped his laptop shut, and marched out with it.
*»No games till summer. Fix. Those. Grades. How are you *not* ashamed?»*
*»Mum, relax. You always overreact,»* Oliver muttered*just* like his dad.
She ranted until*slam*Oliver bolted. Frantic, she rang Arthur.
*»Hes run offprobably to you!»*
Arthur answered the door to a distraught Oliver. *»Dad, I *cant* go back. Let me stay. Ill fix my grades, I swear.»*
To Dinas surprise, she barely fought it. Arthur hadnt expected her to cave so fastshe just looked *tired*.
The next week was bliss: pizza, banter, no rules. Until the school calledOliver had *skipped* classes. The fails stood.
Dina exploded. *»This is *your* parenting? Im taking him back!»* She stormed in, but Oliver fled *again*this time to his grans.
Arthur found Dina shaking. *»We need a *plan*,»* he said. *»Bans wont workhell just run. Whens your holiday?»*
They packed tents, rucksacks, and *textbooks*, heading off as a trio. Mornings were study sessions (Dina on history, Arthur on maths); afternoons, adventures. By the end, Oliver was ready.
On results day, they waited outside school, nerves frayed.
Then*»I PASSED!»* Oliver came sprinting out, waving his slip.
*»Brilliant!»* Arthur cheered. *»Ice cream on methe *best* in town.»*
At the café, Dina watched them joke, her resentment gone. Arthur caught her eye.
*»See? We did it. Together, were unstoppable.»*
She knew theyd never be a couple again. But *this*this worked. For Oliver, theyd finally figured it out.
