HE DIDN'T GET IT

HOME ALONE?

 

This is going to be great! Mom and Dad have finally realized that I am trustworthy and can stay home by myself- no baby sitter. I've been arguing about this since I was twelve. They held out two more years before they considered my plea.

 

They are going on a short trip (3 days and nights) to D.C. to sight see, have a second honeymoon. On Thursday I can smell the wonderful cookies she's baking. Before supper she shows me the sliced brisket and container of gravy that will be good for Friday night and roasted chicken wings that are in an aluminum bowl with a tight cover on the lowest fridge shelf. In the veggie bin is an unopened bag of garden salad and the little tomatoes I like. They are washed and in a separate bag. There are three kinds of delly slices, pickles, chips, bread in the freezer.  'Jeff,' she gloats, 'you can take care of your own breakfasts. I'm not doing a single thing.'

 

Friday morning they have put their heavy two large suitcases in the foyer. Dad had the car gone over, even washed, gas tank filled and they are ready to travel the world. Hugs for Mom, a strong handshake for my Dad and a sincere 'Have a good time', I see them off and feel good, grown up. Cookies await me. I leave the t.v. dark until seven when I try to watch a local soccer game. It is pitiful. I text my buddies, decide on a dish of chocolate ice cream with Hendler's chocolate syrup. The empty plate and the remains of the chicken wings stay in the sink.

 

My ears perk up when I hear a noise at the front door. Not opening it, I peep thru the peephole and see nothing and go to bed. The hall light is on and there is noone behind me, but I hear footsteps just the same. They sound heavy like Dad's but he's in D.C. It can't cost a lot to leave the light on all night, can it?

 

At 10:30 the ringing phone is loud, scares the crap out of me. 'My mother whispers, 'Jeff, this is your mom. Why are you still up?' 'I wasn't up. You woke me, Mom. What do you want?' Mom wants nothing special but takes the time to ask me if I am sure I locked the front door.' It's my turn. 'Mom, are you and Dad having a nice time?'

 

She teehees, tells me 'Not yet, Son, but we will.'