An all star athlete. Co-captain to three teams. Honor Society Member. A loyal employee of five years at the local Bestbuy. My wonderful son.
Enter three years of college, supporting an apartment on his own, homework, bills, practice, homework, laundry, making meals, homework, long hours at work, athletic meets, did I say homework? (Don't forget to subtract Mom's every available dollar!) Still my son.
Add a near tragic car accident. An attack by a neighbor's dog. Panic attacks. Forty six stitches because a glass door smashed nearby. And the question of the 2008 year: "Mom, can I come home and get on my feet?"
Add all that together and what do you get?
A crowded house with gym shoes magically appearing at every corner. Milk left out on the counter ("Sorry Mom, I forgot.") Laundry piled to the rafters - 90 percent still smelling of dryer sheets! ("Well, I put it on, then I changed again." translated to- it touched my body for two seconds)Oh, don't forget the endless questions- none of which are seeking advice, but instead want to know WHY I drive down Maple Street when it's so much easier to take Oak St...and various other examples of mom's 'shortcomings.' If that isn't enough, you may filter in the big german shepherd/rottie who leaves mud, hair and various other bodily fluids all over the what was new carpet. ("Mom, it's not my fault! Prince was playing in the mud." My question-who owns this dog?)
Someone said my little boy is a man now....hmmm...if that be true, just WHO IS this creature who resides in the room down the hall?!
Sorry, Wrong Number (A Texting Story)
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