Why Every Parent Should Visit Their Teen’s Room
It has nothing to do with drugs or sex and everything to do with love.
I have two “children.” One is fifteen, and one is twenty. My bedroom is downstairs, and both of theirs are on the upper level. And being that the only other room upstairs is a bathroom they share, they have their own little version of a two-person “tiny house.”
For me, this layout basically means that I have “strangers” living in my own home. Because if you have teens, you know that “room hibernation” is real.
But I do manage to make trips to visit the “neighbors,” such as when I take the clothes they’re too lazy to come get up to their rooms.
I try to make these trips upstairs as fast as possible because their upper-level abode looks like a version of Hoarders. Their trashcans are overflowing, and so are their laundry baskets.
And I feel my blood pressure rising each time I go up the stairs because I know the destruction scene I’m willfully walking into.
When I step into my son’s room — that where’s the “fun” really kicks in. Water bottles strewn across the floor. Sweaty gym clothes haphazardly littering the bed. Open college textbooks with wet, watery pages that are probably more hydrated than I am.
