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It's just as well that I never sent that letter to the Bishop a while back. That's behind a friends lock, but the short version is, I was very angry at the Good Monsignor's continued unfriendly attitude toward me and Wee Hob. I decided to wait until it felt less like I was sending a flame, and by then I had realized that I wasn't sure what I really wanted and that sending such an incendiary letter was a really good way to take away all my choice in the matter. I do work there, after all, and sometimes I even get paid.
( And now, I am in possession of some new information. Some information that leads me to believe I owe the good monsignor an apology, and although he has likely never seen my journal, a retraction here. )
So, while the Good Monsignor has maybe not been as gracious as he might have been, I really haven't been either. And my son is both a thief and a liar and I really do not know what to do. Other than take away all his privileges again, not trust him, be really angry at him and tell him I might take a long while to get over it, and make him write a letter of apology to the Good Monsignor: legible, properly spelled, and demonstrating both a clear understanding of all the ways his actions have wronged the man and a sincere penitence for it. This last is torture in a lot of ways-- he has a hard time writing, and it will take several copies before he gets one that's acceptable.
His therapist knows about it and is backing up my letter of apology demand-- he'll be excluded from camp outings until it's completed. The senseless of it really gets me, on top of the whole betrayal of trust thing. I mean, he was already caught, and these items were ones we had already told him we knew were stolen. How hard could it be to give them back to the right people, while you're already being punished for the offense? He lost all privileges and was grounded for months-- it's not like I could have done anything worse because he honestly had nothing left to take Already. I. Do. Not. Understand.
Back to my point. I was wrong, about a great many things, and regardless of anybody else's actions or omissions, and I wanted to state that publicly and for the record. Which I have now done.
( And now, I am in possession of some new information. Some information that leads me to believe I owe the good monsignor an apology, and although he has likely never seen my journal, a retraction here. )So, while the Good Monsignor has maybe not been as gracious as he might have been, I really haven't been either. And my son is both a thief and a liar and I really do not know what to do. Other than take away all his privileges again, not trust him, be really angry at him and tell him I might take a long while to get over it, and make him write a letter of apology to the Good Monsignor: legible, properly spelled, and demonstrating both a clear understanding of all the ways his actions have wronged the man and a sincere penitence for it. This last is torture in a lot of ways-- he has a hard time writing, and it will take several copies before he gets one that's acceptable.
His therapist knows about it and is backing up my letter of apology demand-- he'll be excluded from camp outings until it's completed. The senseless of it really gets me, on top of the whole betrayal of trust thing. I mean, he was already caught, and these items were ones we had already told him we knew were stolen. How hard could it be to give them back to the right people, while you're already being punished for the offense? He lost all privileges and was grounded for months-- it's not like I could have done anything worse because he honestly had nothing left to take Already. I. Do. Not. Understand.
Back to my point. I was wrong, about a great many things, and regardless of anybody else's actions or omissions, and I wanted to state that publicly and for the record. Which I have now done.
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