First off, the packing was no small feat. We had to complete a list and I had to secure a corded flashlight, which he could hang on his neck to go potty at night in the mountains, where they have scheduled a visit with an indigenous tribe, and where there is no electricity. I had to get bug spray, sun block, river sandals for white water rafting, and grown-up pajamas. He REFUSED to take his cartoon-printed pajamas, his favorites--SHHH!--which are so comfy. Their packing list also specified: sarong. So, I sent him my navy blue sarong. But he almost had a coronary when he saw it. "What the heck?" he screamed at me. "But the list said, sarong." I reasoned out. "I don't care what the friggin list said, you can't make me bring that sarong!" "What's the matter? Did you want it in another color?" "Mom!!!" Okay, so the sarong stayed behind.
Off we were to school this morning all locked and loaded. I had to do the hugging and kissing while we were in the car because there already exists an unwritten rule that he has gotten too big for PDA. Right before he boarded the bus that would take them to the airport, we just gave each other a high five--the final touch that must carry me through five days of a son-less existence. How much more dramatic can I get, really?
I was melancholy on the ride home but it hadn't even been 10 minutes when my cell phone beeped. It was him and the text message read: "Goodbye!" This one word has never been as meaningful as it was today.
Belli just got home exactly two seconds ago, as I post this, and shouted out that Bidi, who is two years younger than her, just sent her a text message that said: "I love you.
There is one thing I am most certain of: he will have the time of his life. And me? Well, I'll live.
Moms in conference with teacher, entrusting her with their most precious creations
Pretty Moms in a row. Boy, will their sons have a hard time finding partners who will trump their beauty. Real tall order!
Bidi with BFF, Tino
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