He's been eating since Mom left.
Right now he's eating in the living room. We tell him every. single. day. he's not allowed to do that.
I don't even know if he's still playing his Xbox. I'm too tired to go make sure he hasn't somehow gotten a hold of some raunchy movie.
He didn't vaccuum the family room. Mom told him to.
He doesn't learn. And I don't mean that in a frustrated, ughsheeshwhenishegonnagrowup way. He'll never grow up, except by some miracle. His birth mother took that away from him.
I care about him, but it's hard to really love him.
And most of the things I say in regards to him, only one who knows someone who's like him would understand.