Two parts annoyed, one part thrilled - *UPDATED!*

Ask me how many letters I've gotten from my firstborn son, my baby, my joy, as he's away at camp.

GO ON. ASK.

Would you imagine two? Two letters from the child I have nurtured and loved and clothed for nearly fourteen years now? Two letters seems reasonable, right?

Noooo, not two letters.

Well then ONE letter - surely. One little note, a tiny word to reassure the rent heart of his mommy? Just a few lines about the hiking and swimming and skits? He gets TWO HOURS of free time every day, SURELY that's time enough to jot down a few lines for the woman who - HELLO - actually TAUGHT HIM TO WRITE?

And yet, NO. NOT ONE LETTER.

*pout*

As if that weren't enough, I dreamt about him at camp the other night. In my dream we showed up to pick him up, and he was three inches taller than me. Trust me, I've had the camp food. It's not that good. But anyhow, there I was, petting his cheek and hugging him, and exclaiming over how TALL he's become. And he stopped me and gestured to the edge of the camp, where, for the first time, I noticed a bridge. A giant, golden bridge, with a decorative pacifier affixed to the near end, and the far end of it shrouded in mists.

"Sorry, Mom," he said, "I have to go." And with that he left, loping toward the bridge.

I woke up ENTIRELY annoyed. See? I muttered to myself in the fuzzy early morning light, this is why I don't write fiction. Even my DREAMS are hackneyed and trite. I mean SERIOUSLY? That's the best symbol I could come up with? A BINKY BRIDGE?

On the other hand, we leave tonight to go drive back down and pick him up. I'm entirely giddy, despite the CRAZY drive through the night/pick up the boy/drive through the night/take Max to play a double header schedule we've got going on. It's INSANE, but me? I'm prancing around like a child on the last day of school. Because in...what? about 27 hours I'll see my baby boy. I'll hug him close and cry a little and then I will SMACK HIM ON THE BACK OF THE HEAD and tell him "YOU WRITE TO YOUR MOMMY."

It's gonna be great.

UPDATE!

He WROTE! Just look at all those exclamation points!

 

He's happy! And soon he'll be home! Squeeeeeee!

Um...and his handwriting is TERRIBLE. Wow.

*beam*

That's my boy.

Comments

[Groovecatmom]

He is probably saving it all up to tell you in person. Otherwise it would have taken at least two letters a day, and well, that might not have gone over so well with the other campers.

[Lise]

I always tell my kids that I won't send them a package until I receive a letter from them. So they usually write home once. Although I always send the package early in the week, and sometimes don't even receive their letters until after they're back home, so clearly I am a lying liar of a mom.

[Bobbie]

When my son went to camp, he had to write a letter home by Wednesday or he couldn't go to dinner. It worked! I also wrote to him every day, and I recently found all of my letters in his room (from six years ago)....

[Amy]

When Liz went to Great Britian for 10 days she never called once while she was away. I thought it was because she was too afraid that calling would make her even more homesick but discovered after her return that after one or two unsuccessful tries at using the telephone card she just gave up. Have fun bringing the boy home and be prepared - he really will look like he's aged 2 or 3 years.