"I'm just going out - to walk and recite my German oral - I may be some time."
This said at approximately 8.10pm as son disappeared out of the door. Dinner served at 8.40pm (ten minutes later than planned, having given up waiting for him). Son's dinner gets cold.
9.15pm realise it's really quite dark. Text son, no reply. Phone son, transfers to answering machine. Pulse quickens. Go outside into the garden and shout his name several times. Four-legged-friend starts to bark. As do several other, more distant dogs.
Four-legged-friend and I go for a walk to look for son and promptly slide down a muddy slope on our knees.
It's very dark.
Imagination now several paces ahead of me - has he put his foot down a rabbit hole, walked to his girlfriend's, met someone who has bought him a drink in the pub, fallen into the rain swollen river, tripped up and landed in a ditch.
Pause with Four-legged-friend at a stile and phone - no, he's not at his girlfriend's and not home yet, either. How do you find someone in the dark? Shout again. And village dogs start to bark again.
Decide to walk on. Getting wet and cold now and torch not as bright.
Phone rings.
He's home. His mobile phone in his bedroom all the time.
Is there a moral to this tale? - probably not. Boys will be boys. He probably won't take his phone or torch with him the next time either.
Did I over-react? I think its called being a mother, al-be-it one with a rather over active imagination, but not until I stop being his mother will I stop caring, and that's never going to happen.
Four-legged-friend, on the other hand, was very happy with his night time adventure. And not a bit worried about anything. That's if you don't count those other dogs who were barking too. It was a bit like the twilight bark in the cartoon version of 101 Dalmations - anydog seen a lanky chap, pacing the fields and talking to himself in German?
This said at approximately 8.10pm as son disappeared out of the door. Dinner served at 8.40pm (ten minutes later than planned, having given up waiting for him). Son's dinner gets cold.
9.15pm realise it's really quite dark. Text son, no reply. Phone son, transfers to answering machine. Pulse quickens. Go outside into the garden and shout his name several times. Four-legged-friend starts to bark. As do several other, more distant dogs.
Four-legged-friend and I go for a walk to look for son and promptly slide down a muddy slope on our knees.
It's very dark.
Imagination now several paces ahead of me - has he put his foot down a rabbit hole, walked to his girlfriend's, met someone who has bought him a drink in the pub, fallen into the rain swollen river, tripped up and landed in a ditch.
Pause with Four-legged-friend at a stile and phone - no, he's not at his girlfriend's and not home yet, either. How do you find someone in the dark? Shout again. And village dogs start to bark again.
Decide to walk on. Getting wet and cold now and torch not as bright.
Phone rings.
He's home. His mobile phone in his bedroom all the time.
Is there a moral to this tale? - probably not. Boys will be boys. He probably won't take his phone or torch with him the next time either.
Did I over-react? I think its called being a mother, al-be-it one with a rather over active imagination, but not until I stop being his mother will I stop caring, and that's never going to happen.
Four-legged-friend, on the other hand, was very happy with his night time adventure. And not a bit worried about anything. That's if you don't count those other dogs who were barking too. It was a bit like the twilight bark in the cartoon version of 101 Dalmations - anydog seen a lanky chap, pacing the fields and talking to himself in German?
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