A couple of weeks ago, I finally moved in with my husband, which was supposed to be the beginning of a wonderful chapter in our lives. I had no idea that my husband’s 15-year-old son from a previous marriage, named Dave, would prove to be a difficult obstacle to overcome. Though I knew there would be some period of adaptation, I did not expect such an attitude towards my efforts to make the house our cozy place in the form of piles of garbage that Dave, as if on purpose, left scattered throughout the house.

At first, I thought it was a temporary situation, perhaps a teenager’s version of chaos. But days turned into weeks, and the mess only seemed to grow. Empty chip bags, crumpled papers, and discarded clothes adorned every corner of our once-pristine home. It was as if a tornado of teenage negligence had swept through, leaving behind a debris field that would shock even a loving mother.

My comments and requests for cleanliness had no effect on him at all. It was like talking to a wall. I wanted to stop this and somehow decided to act outside the box.

One day, when Dave left for school, I came up with a plan. I was going to defeat this trash invasion, which required a strategy that went beyond mere words. Wandering around the house, armed with trash bags and determination, I picked up every piece of clutter that had settled into our home. I was on a mission to teach Dave a lesson in responsibility.