Home again, home again, jiggety jig

I've spent the last few days getting used to everyone being home again. Wonder of wonders, Michael did not yell at me for cleaning his room. He even went so far as to kind of thank me. Which was a huge thing, from him. It was really nice to get an acknowledgement from him.

The confrontation about the cigarettes went, well, okay. The husband handled it and I don't necessarily agree with his approach toward his son. But, as I keep reminding myself, this isn't my child. I can give opinions and input, but ultimately, I have no say.

Michael's explanation was exactly what I expected. He claimed that someone at work had forced the pack on him and he had brought it home because he hadn't known what else to do. The husband probed for a little bit, then sent Michael out of the room so that we could discuss the situation. I pointed out that for one thing, that was nearly a full pack of cigarettes. I found it hard to believe that someone he hardly knew (he said he'd only worked with the guy that one time and couldn't remember his name) would want to force something rather pricey on a boy that doesn't even smoke. There was also the issue that it was carefully hidden, not in the garbage or left in a pocket or dumped amidst all the other trash on his floor.

I do think he hasn't tried smoking at most more than once or twice, and definitely isn't addicted yet. I don't believe his story about how the cigarettes came into his possession. The husband agreed with me, but didn't feel (this is the part I vehemently disagreed with) that there was a need to go any further than a one week grounding for bringing cigarettes into the house. Although he did point out to Michael that he didn't really believe him, and that it was hard to trust him after the whole thing with the coin jar.

We'll see how it goes. Hopefully he got jolted out of this by getting caught.