Adult Decisions......

Introducing Taj, the terrible teen. He was sitting in the very posh waiting room, waiting, waiting. He was sent here by a court order from the Children's Court, his parents were completing all the paper work. Taj was still waiting to meet his new health provider, eminent shrink, specializing in child and adolescent psychiatry. This solution to Taj's stage of development went by the name of Dr. Sponger. He cost a fortune, but Taj was going along for this ride.

His phone pinged. He tried to ignore it, but scrolling was his hobby, part of his culture. Let's face it, he had been conceived on a phone, with his mother's social media updates. Taj tried not to think about his mother and father and their sex life.

His phone kept pinging. Taj could not resist, he pressed his button, and said, "Yeah,?" "Yo, Pickles!" "Yeah, nah, maybe.... Same time, later tonight..." He nodded, scared the eminent doctor would hear him. A door opened, there appeared the eminent Dr. Sponger, here to solve all society's mental health for the young.

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that," Dr. Sponger said, "Come along in. Please sit down and tell me about your earliest childhood experiences with your parents." Taj obeyed, this was costing a fortune. He had a good imagination, and could spin a tale of his pitiful upbringing in a palatial mansion. He got quite misty-eyed and lyrical, feeding Dr. Sponger what he wanted to hear. Minutes ticked by, then Dr. Sponger said, "Your teachers say you do not speak up in class, and keep skipping school."

Taj had a good answer for this minor niggle in his teenage years .He tried to look tortured, saying, " Some of the boys in my class are bullies, I don't want to be on their social media."

"Ah, being bullied.....I'll type some notes." Dr. Sponger clicked some buttons, and told Taj, "There is an answer here for your behaviors. You are being bullied, I shall recommend to your parents that they enroll you in virtual school, and free you from this dreadful situation. You tick all my boxes, .now your parents can take you home. I suggest you read your books, silent reading is very helpful."

Yes, Taj the Terrible had played that one beautifully. It gave his non-teacher mother more to be neurotic about. Hey, his parents might litigate his expensive school principal for Taj being bullied. This was youth mental health, okay. Now Taj could stay home, pretending to read politically correct books by his family's aquatic center in the back yard.

"Teens do not make adult decisions...." Dr. Sponger had told his enduring parents, as they booked him in for more of this helpful advice. Taj was being educated to step up to the plate, ready to finish secondary school to be an advocate for social justice and equity in his global community ahead.

But no, that would mean making adult decisions. Taj was only fourteen years old, definitely playing the system. He could stick to Dr. Sponger, at a pricey fee, as he was too young to be convicted. He was ready to re-offend.

By 10 pm that same night, Taj and Pickles had turned off their boys' night lights, stashed pillows in their beds. While Taj's parents were still arguing loudly, playing their dysfunctional blame game over who was going to home school Taj, he and Pickles had headed into the night. They were wearing their anonymous hoodies over their faces, on a mission.

The lads got $500 each delivery for every luxury car they swiped in their wealthy suburb. Their boss groomed them online, and taught them how to steal the right cars, and how to drive them. Once delivered, he removed their engine numbers, and had more drivers take them interstate, to be sold online. Profits were roaring in this black cash economy.

This night in particular, Taj planted the foot on the gas of a bright new red Porsche, speeding along the beach side road, heading along the highway. Suddenly, he heard the highway patrol, right on their hammer. Wheeling dangerously, he turned the tables, driving right at the cop car, ramming it into the power pole. Flames erupted, soon enough the young policeman were mere crisps on their last night in their noble workplace.

Taj and Pickles sneaked off from this crime scene, skulking in the bushes, taking their own phone selfies of all the flashing, wailing emergency vehicles. As the hearse from the undertaker rolled away. the boys had no time for regrets. That would take adult decisions.

One way or another, Taj and Pickles had blasted the whole 'hood. It made them feel good. Taj hoped the eminent Dr. Sponger did not overhear all those sirens, he lived not far away at all. Soon, the disengaged teen boys were cruising to their boss, bit more sedately this time, in a stolen Maserati. They lived in that kind of suburb. They dodged every detective in their future, playing the odds. Next accident in those high-powered wheels could wrap one or both of them around the naughty power poles, just standing there, waiting. And still waiting. Then his parents, might not get any grandsons to stuff up, playing their blame games. They were a very convenient scapegoat.

Taj collected his fee, and got home in his hoodie, anonymous. He could have been anyone's son. He went straight to sleep, all part of his youth mental health. The next day, his mother took him to his next appointment to Dr. Sponger, where she complained that Taj never read any books.

Dr. Sponger typed more notes, asking, " Why don't you like silent reading?" Taj provided a nice excuse, he had been browsing on his phone. He could play this game until he was really rich. "I have heard that I am neuro-divergent." His phone pinged, he not resist the summons from Pickles. They were both society's problems, after all. "Yeah, nah, later tonight." Dr. Sponger never ran short of clientele. "I'll pretend I didn't hear that. You definitely tick all my boxes for being labelled. How do you think your phone is affecting you? You can tell me anything you like."

"Right," thought Taj, "It's all my father's fault, he does not set healthy boundaries...."

"Ah, yes. I understand your position in Happy Families," the eminent Dr. Sponger said, "Your mother can make some appointments for group family therapy as well." He inadvertently typed a golden dollar sign. Taj was ticking boxes. It was all social justice. Adult decisions were giving teens a phone, chat rooms and the internet. Pretend you didn't read that.......