Dear Kid,

Did you set your alarm?

Do you have your keys?

What about your lunch? Did you take your lunch?

Don’t run with scissors.

Once it’s on the internet, it’s there for life.

Be sure to eat breakfast, it’s the most important meal of the day.

Did you turn off the stove?

Be careful! Someone could lose an eye.

Don’t talk to strangers (wait—I rescind that—everyone is a stranger until you meet them).

Be yourself. Unless you have amnesia.

Smile.

Be sure to say Please and Thank You.

Make sure you buckle your seatbelt.

Don’t sit too close to the TV. Or the laptop. Or your phone.

Put your phone down during dinner!

Don’t talk while I’m talking.

Don’t interrupt your new boss.

Remember to brush your teeth.

Eat your vegetables.

Don’t make me come up there!

You don’t have to cry over spilled milk, but you do need to clean it up.

Did you finish your homework? What do you mean you don’t have any homework? Finish it anyway.

And don’t forget to call your parents every now and then.

Love, Mom

P. S. Because I said so.

Dear Kid,

Any requests for dinner this week?

Nope.

Anything you don’t make yourself so you want to have before you go?

Not really.

Chicken? Fish? Grilled cheese?

Whatever you want is fine with me.

Apple cake or honey cake?

Anything you want, Mom.

Some people would assume you are the Most Easy Going Kid on the planet. (You’re not, I checked.)

Other people might assume you are singularly focused on your phone and had no idea what I said. (You probably were buried in your phone, but you surfaced enough for the conversation. I checked.)

Still others might assume that you are doing your best to drive your Beloved Mother crazy. (You weren’t. You have other tricks for doing that.)

You were just being you. And you honestly had no preference for whether we had fish or chicken.

Which was fine except for the part about you leaving for your internship in a few days and me wanting to spoil you a little before you go.

We could go out to NameOfLocalRestaurant.

I meant spoil you by cooking something you’ll remember. And we’re paying tuition, so we can’t afford NameOfLocalRestaurant.

I like shepherd’s pie…?

EXCELLENT! (Excuse me I have to go fix dinner.)

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

What are you watching on TV?
Football Game 1. Football Game 2. Football Game 3. And a James Bond movie.
All of them?
Yeah (duh).
Pick one.
I’m watching all of them.
Choose a channel, Child. And leave it.
You’re really old fashioned, Mom.

Kid?
Um?
There’s a big pile of clothes outside your room.
Yeah?
Why is there a big pile of clothing outside your room?
It’s laundry.
Why is it outside your room in a big pile?
There’s no reason for it to be in my room, is there?
Child!
Don’t worry, Little Mama, I’ll do my laundry.
Preferably before it walks to the laundry room by itself…

There is also a mighty fine collection of mugs outside your room.
Yep.
Are you taking all of them with you when you go to your internship?
No, I just need to wash them.
So the hallway is what, a halfway house?
You’re hilarious, Mom.
Seriously, Child, the mugs have filed for citizenship they’ve been there so long.
I. Will. Wash. Them.

WHO USED THIS PAN AND DIDN’T WASH IT?
I’ll get to it, Mother.
Don’t you “Mother” me, young man.
You want me to call you “Dad”?
I want you to wash your dishes.
Settle down, Mama. I will, I will.
I mean before your 30th birthday!
Again, hilarious. Not.

And yet I will miss you more than you can possibly imagine when you’re off doing wonderful internship things.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

I’ve been watching too much tiny house TV. I’ve been watching the shows where they build tiny homes and the shows where people hunt for existing tiny homes. Who knew there was so much small living in these here United States?

I’ve noticed two important things about these teeny abodes. The first is that they are about 300 square feet and you have to climb a ladder to sleep in a loft that you can’t stand up in. The second is that all these homes have names.

“The Loft”

“The Cottage”

“The Palace”

“The Mill House”

“The Bungalow”

“The Burrow”

What is with all these properties with names?

Why doesn’t our house have a name? (Beyond “home.”)

Home is a good name, but it’s not really a name you put on a sign and say, “This home is known as Home.” It just sounds weird.

For starters, it doesn’t have “the” in front of it which is apparently critical to the house-naming process.

“Hillcrest”

“Meadow View”

“Sunnyside”

“Top Cottage”

“Saunders”

OK, maybe it doesn’t HAVE to have a “The”.

Extra points if you know who lived under the name of Saunders.

I’m contemplating names:

“The Mess”

“The Dustbowl”

“Coffee First”

“The Dishwasher Needs to Be Emptied”

“The Forgotten Chore”

What’s your suggestion for our house name?

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

I now have some perspective.

(Yeah, that’s not entirely true. But I have had a few hours’ sleep and I was just too worn out to write and reflect after the game.)

Sooooo, there was a soccer game in Cincinnati this week (wasn’t sure if you knew that).

The price of parking in the area doubled, the number of available seats for dinner eating dwindled to a ridiculous few, and joy and excitement reached entirely new heights.

Dinner was a colossal failure hot mess unfortunate event interesting. After a competitive game of “I Dunno, Where Do You Want to Eat?” we tried every restaurant within 6 miles only to discover that we’d have to wait until dawn for a table. (No joke. We put our names in at one place and we’re still waiting for them to free up a table for us.) We ended up at Dibella’s “Wait, there are going to be guests tonight?” Subs.

After placing our orders, we sat down to wait for the sandwiches.

Let’s do the math: 6 people, 5 of whom ordered subs. How many sandwiches were delivered correctly and how many mistakes were made? Ok, carry the one, compute the combination and permutations, throw salt over your shoulder, and be sure to show your work. In pencil. And the answer is: one sandwich delivered correctly! 4,782 mistakes were made. For the last sandwich, it took our collective efforts to explain that a Philly Cheese Steak included steak (not turkey) and cheese (not invisible cheese substitute).

Fortunately, we had plenty of time and eventually everyone was fed. (I ate French fries at the game. They were just about perfect. Happy, happy little me.)

Then we went to the game.

If we’re being completely honest, Football Club Cincinnati was outplayed from whistle to whistle. But as you know, I rarely let complete honesty get in the way of fan-ship and team loyalty. There were definitely some questionable officiating calls. Our guys played their hearts out and when they scored the first goal the crowd went wild.

I have never fully understood that phrase until now. I have never felt that kind of transformative energy. It was a lifetime experience.

Ultimately (and by “ultimately” I mean after two periods of overtime), we lost. By one teeny tiny little unfortunate goal.

We got home waaaay past my bedtime. But it was absolutely worth it.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Somehow, someway, we (and by “we” I mean you) managed to defy the odds, conquer the technology, and procure tickets to tonight’s FC Cincinnati game.

The fabulous feat means that A) we get to enjoy the game tonight and B) I get to make several people seriously jealous.

We also get to fight 4 zillion cars to make it downtown in time for the start of the game. Not a problem. I have great faith. Not to mention we’re leaving 6 hours before we need to be there.

OK, I’m joking about the 6 hours. We’re only allowing 5.

Don your blue (yes, it’s a #Blueout), and let’s have fun!

Love, Mom