I think one of the harder parts of parenting a teen-ager is staying up late, waiting for him to get home. The curfew only gets later and later, but I get older and older and tireder and tireder.
I need answers, Cas. Are you coming home now? Are you sleeping overnight at your friend’s house? Can you hear me?
Nope. Phone rings. Text messages go unanswered.
Your father will not like this at all.
If only I can keep my eyes open long enough to tell your dad about it when he gets home from the demolition derby.
Wait! It’s a text message. Says simply “omw.”
I hope that means “on my way.”
Or we’ll both be in trouble.