When he was small we attempted…. tried, coerced, bribed, teased, chided, and connived…him into… well, to teach him a bit of responsibility taking. I started with a very short, important phone number. Not that he wasn’t with an adult at all times, an adult who would be in charge of the phone, an adult who would be doing the “dialing” were it necessary. Still, it seemed like a good idea. I read it somewhere, and other mothers at the bus stop were bragging about all that their children could repeat by rote. Baaaa. Baaaa. Call me a sheep in mother’s clothing.
“When there is an emergency, such as a fire, what do we do? We call 9 1 1.”
“9 9 1, Mom.”
“No, 9 1 1.”
“9 9 1, Mom.”
“No, 9 1 1.”
I set it aside for several years.
Dial ahead to now. We are on the threshold of buying him a phone. Will I ever see his face again? More likely just the top of his head:(
The Lunch Encounter 