Wonder on Wednesday

So my fifteen year old son comes in last night and says “you have my cell?” No. A short time later he and son1 find the cell right where son2 got out at school, after having been run over perhaps 100 times by cars, bikes, and people. Needless to say its defunct.
This morning same son2 comes and says “I needed a protractor and compass by this morning” and once again I look at him like “what are you talking about?” and realize he thinks that I have read his mind the two weeks his teacher has reminded him he needed it for today…..never mind that I was a math teacher, never mind that I use both of these in art a good bit, do you think I could find one in the house? Walgreens is my new favorite friend. I bought 3 of each, one for son2 and two for the other two kids who have testosterone poisoning and didn’t remember that they have them due today….whatever two they are…..for you see, my child would be that child another year….so hopefully today we’ll return the favor at least….
Children have this thing about expecting moms to read their minds. At least mine do. I was up at 5:00 a.m. doing football laundry knowing full well that shorts and shirt practice means that well, they need shorts and shirts that are team colors from their power pack. Son2 hadn’t fully figured that out until 7:00 a.m. when he says…”I need those Bear shorts and shirts” looking distressed and knowing how awful they were after practice yesterday….. to which for once I gleefully said, “they are coming out of the dryer now” and got for one solitary second a look of appreciation and awe……this after returning from Walgreens to get his math supplies when he was in the shower…..and the look of his face when he zippered his backpack to find 3 of them, and his football clothes ready….AND cini mini’s on top of the book bag….might as well go for broke since I had to be out anyway…….
You know every now and then a mom has to throw a loop, not get “all parent” on him for being what he is ….a fifteen year old testosterone poisoned, twisted mind adolescence who thinks he’s bulletproof and independent…….and just let him be my little boy.
Three more years and he’ll be on his own, today, he’s mine!