You will clean the kitchen. In walks your teenaged son, who will leave open bags of chips and pieces of plastic ripped from the package of salami he had to open all over the freshly cleaned counters. The thought of tossing trash in the actual garbage can never occurs to him.
To your 14 year old daughter, everything is a crisis. Everything. This means a phone call to you at work because she and her best friend have stopped speaking, usually for the sixth time that week.
They have tunnel vision. There can be unfolded laundry on the couch, dirty dishes in the sink, empty dog food bowls, but unless you point it out to them they won’t see it. They do know, however, where their Gameboy/CD player/TV remote is.
Fighting over who sits where in the car can reach epic proportions.
Don’t get me wrong. I would throw myself on a live grenade to protect my children. Some sage once said grandchildren are your reward for not killing your teenagers. There are days I know what he means.