Welcome Home!

So, dear son begs for cell phone until we threaten to not let him speak ever again. Finally, I got a phone "upgrade" (OK, right "upgrade". Let's call it what it is: Bilking the customer out of more money, making them think they got a deal, and then adding another two years on to their contract.) Conveniently, they had a "deal", where we got an additional "free" phone.

Son just about went rabid at the mere thought of owning this precious "free" phone. ("And, look, it plays music, too!") Hubby and I conferred and decided, well, maybe an "extra" phone wouldn't be so bad.

Fast forward a couple of weeks to son going out of town for first trip away. I took comfort in the fact that his cell phone would keep us connected.

WRONG.

First, I never got the first phone call from the child. Ever.

When he finally made contact with me- on the third night away- it was via a text message. I had texted son several times to say, "Hi! Hope you're having fun. We miss you! We love you!"

His return text that he finally got around to simply said, "Night." I supposed that was 11-year old for "Good night, mom. I love you. Boy, we're having a great time, but I'm pooped. Going to bed now. Love you lots!"

So I replied with, "Hey! Having fun? Love you!"

His return text only said, "L8tr"

I know as a parent the "good news" is that he was having so much fun and is so secure with himself and knows without a doubt that we love him- enough so, that he doesn't feel the need to blather on with details about the trip, what he's doing, seeing, or that he even (somewhat) misses us.

But, as a parent, I really was a little pouty that he didn't call or even text (both free Verizon to Verizon!). Well, to be fair, he did text. Twice. But I wouldn't call his texts even conversational. They sounded more like an ex-boyfriend blowing off the clingy, pitiful girl who just couldn't take the hint.

So, when he gets back (tomorrow!!!!), I'll be sure to give him lots of kisses and hugs in front of his friends. I may even bring the baby picture of him with a bare bottom lying on a white fuzzy rug. Maybe next time he'll make more of an effort to contact me so as not to let that happen again.

But probably, I'll just carry his things to the car, and watch as he very sleepily trudges behind me. Then I'll watch my weary, unbathed 11- year-old boy sleep in the car on the way home. Finally, I'll let him sleep, make him breakfast in the morning, give him a hug (without friends witnessing) and want to hear all about his trip.

But mostly, I'll just be glad he's home.