Conversations with T

Midnight. T is 16 this month.

Me: Uhm, why does your room smell like weed?

T: What? Weed?

Me: Yes.

T: Remember when I told you something smells funny in my room? I just sprayed with Fabreeze.

Me: It can't be this Fabreeze cause it's orange scented, and it doesn't smell like oranges in here.

T: Oh, I used the one from downstairs.

Me: It really smells like weed in here. Why is your window open?

T: Mom, now you're making me feel bad! You always told me not to do it!

Me: Why is there a lighter on your windowsill?

T: There's always been a lighter on my windowsill.

Me: Hm.

T: Maybe it's the neighbour!

T: Now you're going to think about this and it's making me feel bad! And you don't believe me!

Me: Parents will always think something. And sure I believe you. (Hug). Good night.

(I went downstairs and opened window in living room and inhaled. No weed smell emanating from neighbour's house.)