Mother's Prerogative

Sheila Broflovski knew perfectly well what a good percentage of the town thought of her. It was difficult not to notice, between that pudgy boy's little song about her which she'd had the misfortune of overhearing quite a few times (though at least her dear son always retaliated against the other boy's antics), and the more than exasperated reaction of most of the town's younger population every time she took up a new cause.

Yes, she was a passionate woman, and she prided herself on that. If that made her a "bitch," well, so be it, even if it was a crude term that she hoped never to hear from her own darling children's lips.

She was also a woman who held strong family values, though she could admit that perhaps she came across as a bit overbearing some of the time. But she certainly didn't see that as being something negative. In fact, more people should have such a firm set of values; then perhaps the world might not be so oppressive to her children's generation!

And of course, she was a protective mother. She was the momma bear, fiercely guarding her cubs from a world that would cause them harm as soon as her ever watchful glance wavered. If she had to metaphorically bite off a few heads to get the point across that no one messed with her children, well, she failed to see a problem with that.

The only problem, as far as Sheila was concerned, was that her otherwise positive attributes seemed to terrify her sons to the point of being loathe to confide anything in her. Did she not put them above all other priorities? Was she nothing but a caring mother, in the most extreme sense?

And, for Moses' sake, wasn't it obvious enough that she was more than slightly open when it came to sexuality? Between all of the issues with Gerald, which she was certain her boys were aware of, shouldn't they at least be able to figure out that she wouldn't punish them for being a little different? She was quite sure that Kyle knew of their attempts to fix Gerald's... dysfunction, and he probably knew about Gerald and Randy's adventure in Mr. Mackey's jacuzzi, since half the town had heard Randy's little kerfuffle over it when it had happened. And maybe he knew about that time she had paid Chef for sex with Gerald in the next room over, completely aware and consenting to the whole thing, as it was for a good cause.

If her bubbeleh knew any of that, which she was sure he did, then why the blazes did he feel such a persistent need to hide his more than obvious relationship with that Stanley boy?

Oi. Children certainly were strange creatures. Especially boys. Boys always were awkward when it came to sexuality... or at least, when it came to discussing the matter with their mothers.

Hmph. Well, if Kyle was going to be so avoidant about it, she would just have to be direct, wouldn't she? After all, she needed to make sure they were being careful and taking precautions. It was a mother's prerogative to worry; at least with this situation, she didn't need to worry about her bubby knocking up some young girl.

"Kyle, bubby!" She knocked on her elder son's door. She was certain that she could hear noises on the other side, indicating muffled curses and frantic shifting of bedsheets.

"Uhh... yes, mom?!"

"Kyle, let me in."

"Can't it, uh, wait until morning?" His voice was almost pleading, but oh no, they were going to have this conversation now, while Stanley was over, so that she wouldn't need to go over this multiple times.

"No, it cannot. Now throw on some pants and open the door this minute! That goes for you as well, Stanley."

The only response she received for that was the easily recognized sound of choked horror. She'd know that sound anywhere from how often Kyle made it, though she couldn't for the life of her figure out why he was so easily embarrassed by, well, everything. A few moments later, after a bit of shuffling, the door creaked open to reveal her son's wide, panic-stricken eyes. "...Yes, mom?"

"I just wanted to make sure that you two know what you're doing. I don't care if it feels better without a condom; it's better to be safe than sorry. Also, you might want to keep it down. Your father's been complaining about the noise for weeks now."

Two pairs of eyes stared at her, but neither spoke a word; they were too busy catching flies, or so it seemed from the way their mouths hung open.

"And Kyle, stop trying to wash your sheets on your own. You know you're terrible at doing laundry, I don't know why you bother - you never get the stains out completely. If you want, I'll write out explicit instructions for you, otherwise just tell me you need clean sheets."

She was pretty sure she saw her son twitch at that, but it really needed to be addressed. The way he went about cleaning up after himself was a complete waste of water.

"Well, that's all. Goodnight, boys."

As soon as the door closed, she was quite certain she heard that horrified choking noise again, as well as one clear sentence from her son's boyfriend:

"Dude... you have either the weirdest or coolest mom on the planet."

Sheila smiled; she liked to consider herself both.