Home alone
September 2008
We were invited to a wedding reception – we, as in my husband, John, and I, but not our 12 year old son, Patrick. Since the wedding was close to home, we thought this could be the first opportunity for Patrick to be “home alone.” We wrote out our cell numbers and left them on the kitchen table with the house phone. We thoroughly explained where we were going and how soon we would be home. He reassured us over and over that everything was going to be fine, and just go already! The weather was clear so John didn’t have to give Patrick the tornado speech again that scared the heck out of him some months ago, which is why we were still attempting that first stay-at-home-alone adventure. We drove away, not entirely sure we were doing the right thing, but willing to give it a try.
We started to relax once we were at the reception, sitting at the family table enjoying a drink and catching up with each other. Most weddings in this family included children, but every once in a while, they were not invited which gave us an unexpected and rare adult night out. This time, though, we wouldn’t have to pay $5 an hour for a babysitter to watch Patrick and our 100 pound chocolate Labrador. It was always a gamble as to which one was going to be more work any given evening.
We had about 10-15 minutes before the buffet dinner was ready, when John heard my phone ringing. As I answered it, I saw our home number in the digital read out and instantly became concerned.
“Hello, Patrick – is everything OK?”
“Yes, mema. I just have a question.”
“OK. What is it?”
“What’s our full address?”
This threw me a bit because I know he knows where he lives, and if necessary, he could have just looked at the front of the house, but I gave him the full address and zip code. He thanked me and hung up.
While trying to get back in the family conversation, I occasionally drifted off to wonder what he needed the full address for, but with family and friends all around, the music picking up in the background and the festive occasion to celebrate, I quickly put it to the back of my mind.
About three minutes later, my phone rang again. Once again it was my home number calling.
“Patrick, what’s up?”
“Mema, what’s your credit card number?”
“WHAT?!? Whatever you are doing on the computer, stop it RIGHT NOW!!!! Turn it off and go watch TV!”
“But, I want—“
“NO! You are not buying anything over the computer while we’re not home! That’s final.”
We quickly ate and headed home. We didn’t leave him home alone for another year.
