Communicating with Boys

Click here to listen to: Live from the Hovel on the hill, No.24

(apostrophes and quotes back by popular demand! (Kind of glad to be off that website))

Communicating with boys
My oldest son has asked that I only “Text message” him on his phone.
“I don’t want to be disturbed in class” he said. I have never called him during school. It could be because he knows that it takes so long for me to type something on a phone that by the time I’m finished, he will have graduated.
Recently he had an audition at a prestigious university. I say prestigious because there is still a chance that he might get in. Not that I would know for sure either way, or even have enough information for hope or despair.
However, I did get hourly bulletins on the proceedings, via nasty text messaging on my cell phone. He sent:
First message: “I am at the school”
Second message, 1 hour later: “I just finished the theory test”
Third message, 2 hours later: “I am leaving now”

What? He’s leaving? What about the audition? There seem to be a few pertinent details missing! Then my phone actually rang, and it was him, coming down to my “voice operated” level.
“Hi! How did it go?”
“What?”
“The audition!”
“Which one?”
“Either….both ….as many as there were. Just tell me what happened!”
“It was cool. I liked the jazz band better that the classical group….”
“What did they think of you?”
“I don’t know, they were pretty stone faced….”
“Did you ask them how you did?”
“No.”
No? He drives all the way to Philadelphia, risking his life and limb and my nerves, and he doesn’t even ask them how he did?
“Put your phone on speaker, I’ll ask them”
“I left dad.”
“Go back!”
“Sorry, gotta go. My train is coming, or bus or whatever…..Bye”
Stone faced? What does ‘stone faced’ mean? Did they have a rough night? Did they look that way before he sang? I don’t think I am going to be satisfied unless I call the judges at home.
He is not my only communications problem, though. It might be all boys. The very night that my oldest took off for Philly, I turned to my two “leftover” sons and said:
“Ok, I will be leaving for the city soon, Dinner is on the table.”
“What! What? Where are you going?” Said my youngest, eyes threatening to ‘well up’ with tears.
“I am going in to see a show, I have been telling you all week, remember?” No, of course not. It wasn’t something Sponge Bob said, so why pay any attention at all?
“You did not!” he accused me vehemently. “What about us? What will we do?”
Before I even got a chance to point out that we get 200 channels in addition to Cartoon network and have every game system known to man, my middle son came rushing in.
“What’s happening, what’s going on?”
“Dad’s leaving us, (sniff, sniff) to go into the city!”
“What! You are? Well, I guess “the older brother” will get to beat us up all night, like he usually does.”
“He left for his audition in Philly. You just said goodbye to him!” Instead of considering that interesting fact for a moment, he decided to go right to panic instead.
“You mean we are going to be all alone?” he looked like the house was on fire and all the doors were locked.
“Guys, I have been telling you all week. This is the night where you take care of the dogs and have….”
“Wait! Wait!” Said my middle son. “Is this the night we have Burger King?!!”
“Yes….”
“Bye Dad!”
“Bye Dad! …..I’ll call you, lots of times!”
I looked at the two “lost boys” attacking the fast food, and said:
“Why don’t you just text message me instead?”



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