Spent the last weekend at my college reunion. What a blast.
Left on Friday night, and got back home on Sunday, with a headache from not enough sleep, too much wine, and nonstop laughing at (I mean, with) my college friends.
Thought Conor might have missed me, at least just a little. Here’s a taste of our greeting when I got home.
“Hey, Conor, I’m back!” I smile.
“Want Mommy's iPhone,” he sing songs, pointing at me and looking right in my eyes.
My husband sighs, his shoulders drop. “No, you're supposed to say…I missed you Mommy.” He's obviously been coaching Conor.
“Want Mommy's iPhone!”
I reply, “Conor, I missed you.”
“Want Mommy's iPhone!”
“I missed you,” I say again, looking him in the eye, not giving up the phone. He hasn’t even taken his coat off yet from his walk with his dad and the dog.
“I missed you want mommy's iPhone and sync it up on mommy's com-poo-ter,” he replies in his singsong voice.
I’m not sure what Conor missed more, me or my iPhone. Ok, let’s stop kidding ourselves, he missed the iPhone more.
But I do think he missed me too, just a little. I think. At least, I hope so.
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