"Hey Mom, you know what time it is?" Halfway Between (10 & 20) asked as he walked in the front door this afternoon.
"Yeah, baby, about quarter till six. . ."
"No, it's time to par-tay!" He was downright giddy.
"Well, not until I call the hostess and speak to her parents."
"Can I stay until midnight? That's when the party's over!" He went to the computer to look up the number.
"I don't know about all that. . ."
"Mom, he's going to be fine. He NEVER gets into any trouble, and he's six feet tall!" The Edge of Seventeen came to her brother's defense.
"YOU stay out of this!" I pointed to her, grinning.
"Why do you have to call, Mom? Geesh! You did the same things to me. . . 'Where are you going? Who are you going with? Who else is going to be there?'" She was giving my words a nyah nyah voice.
"Exactly. And look how YOU turned out!" I turned, leaving her indignant, "MOM!" hanging in my wake. . .
"Have you got the number, Son? Thanks. Hello?" I identified myself and spoke to the lady on the other end of the line.
"I'm so glad to hear from some parents!" she said. "You wouldn't believe how many people will just drop their kids off at a party!" We exchanged pleasantries, established that there would be supervision and rules, and I felt much better about letting him go. I said goodbye and turned to meet his expectant gaze.
"So, can I stay until midnight?" He asked excitedly.
"Eleven." I said, then interrupted before he could utter his protest, "Unless you'd prefer earlier. . ."
"Nope, eleven is fine, Mom. Thanks."
Sigh, they grow up so fast. . .now, how in the HECK am I going to stay up until ELEVEN?!
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