MacGyver Imagines

"Battleships"

A/N: Hey everyone! This song is a request from diana_S_A_m I hope you enjoy it! Luv you guys! 💜
Song: "Battleships" by Daughtry
Rating: Everyone

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The timer on the oven beeps in the background, announcing that a batch of chocolate chip cookies is ready, as I fill the dishwasher with another load of dirty dishes. But, at the same time, the phone rings from my purse. I rummage through it quickly and answer right before the call goes to voicemail. "Hello?"

"Mrs. MacGyver?"

"Yes? This is she."

"This is Principal Johnson. I'm calling in regard to your son, Jack."

Oh no. This can't be good.

I listen as she goes on to explain the situation at hand. But, the oven still beeps, begging attention. I search for the oven mitts, and I notice them on the table where my six-year-old daughter is eating - well pretending - to eat her dinner. "Ellen, hand me that oven mitt please," I whisper.

It's true, no one can multitask like a mom.

"He did what with his teacher's calculator?!" I ask in complete and utter shock. "Mrs. Johnson, I am so sorry. We will definitely talk to him about it. And we will happily replace the calculator.... Yes, thank you for calling."

After a humiliating conversation, I hang up the phone with a frustrated sigh and finally open the oven - only to find it smoking inside. I close my eyes and sigh, refraining from letting a few curse words come out of my mouth in front of my impressionable child.

"Jack, get in here right now!" I yell down the hall to my eight-year-old as I toss the burnt batch of cookies in the trash can. Why did I agree to make something for the school bake sale?

I glance at my daughter, who plays with her food. "Ellen, please eat your broccoli."

"I don't want it," she refutes, crossing her arms in front of her chest with an adamant pout. "I want a cookie."

"No cookies unless you eat your vegetables. You know that."

"No!"

"You're not leaving this table until you eat your broccoli. That's final."

Jack finally walks through the kitchen, and I cross my arms, giving him the mom stare. "Jackson Jameson MacGyver, do you know who I just talked to on the phone?"

He shrugs, eyes widening at the sound of his full name.

"Your principal. She says you tore Ms. Bittinger's calculator to pieces. Talk. Now."

"It was for an experiment! I wanted to show my friends something cool."

"It is not okay to ruin another person's things! You know better than that."

"But, Dad taught me."

"Of course he did," I sigh under my breath.

"Can I go watch TV now?"

"No, you may not. What you did today was wrong. You are going to go to your room and write your teacher a letter telling her how sorry you are and that you have learned your lesson. And tomorrow we are going to buy her a new calculator from your allowance money."

He huffs, "Fine" before stomping back the hall.

They're not even teenagers and they already have attitudes, I think, misbelieving.