This is the phone call I received this morning just as I was making the turn to pull into my driveway…to get back in my bed…to lay down on my pillow…to go back to dreamland…and forget that my sleep had ever been interrupted in the first place to drive The Teenager to Band Camp at crack-o-dawn in the morning (see my previous rantings on this torture here).
Can I come back? Are you kidding me? Why? Um….I left my trombone in the back of the truck (in the sweetest voice you could ever wanna here coming from a 16 year old) Followed by a very quick and well-timed I Love You. This kid. Come on! My reply: You’re killing me here.”
But of course being the wonderfully awesome magnificent and giving Mom that I am (ok I’m feeling a bit overly complimentary this morning considering I just did a round trip ride for this kid) did a u-turn and started the ride back to bring him his trombone.
Yet, when I got there was he standing outside waiting with a smile on his face and a big thank you on his lips? Of Course Not! Instead I had to sit there looking around in the crowd of other teenagers not seeing his face…so I call his phone…no answer…then I text him:
“Ummm hello? I know you don’t think I’m getting out of my truck dragging this thing inside looking for you!”
About 2 seconds later he comes out with a bunch of kids, runs up to the truck grabs the trombone with no Thank you or anything. I turn around (ever the blog post opportunist…iPhone camera in hand).
He looks up laughing, “Oh come on Ma, for the BLOG?”
Yes, you made me come all the way back out here so yes you are officially a post in the making…
“UGH! I gotta go to practice Mom!”
See how he lost all levels of the sweet I Love You Mom stuff he was giving out when he needed me to turn around and drive back? LOL
So…moral of my story. Make sure you check the trunk whenever you drop of your band Kiddie…avoid a double trip. One trip each direction is enough Parental Torture for one day…