Today is the day that Zippy the Monkey Boy returns home. He’s been away with a bunch of his schoolmates and teachers on a trip to, among other places, Venice, Vienna and Paris. The lucky little bas– dude.
Seriously, where was this kind of thing when I was growing up? My idea of a wild, exotic time was riding my bike to the other corner store. You know the one, it’s almost a mile away from home. Yeah, like that.
Young dudes these days.
It’s funny, though. We rented him a phone that would work in Europe so he would have some means of contacting us if something went wrong and I think the phone usage showed how he has become more comfortable over there.
When he was on the plane, I sent him a text telling him there was a six-hour time difference so he shouldn’t call when he gets in because it would be 5 am here in Charlotte.
So, at 5:17 am, I get this: “Hey, Dad, it’s Zippy. I got your text and just wanted to give you a call.”
Me: “Did you read the part of the text that said don’t call because it would be way to early for me to get up?”
Zippy: “Um, no?”
Then I proceeded to get two more calls from him during the rest of that day. I got calls at least once a day for the next four days and all was good. And then Zippy the Monkey Boy dropped off the face of the earth.
I’ve got the feeling that he was a bit homesick at first, missing the comforting familiarity of home and wanted to connect a bit to get some of that good feeling back. Then, as he got used to being away and basically on his own without parents breathing over his shoulder all night and day, he realized he didn’t have to waste time calling back when he could be looking at what was in front of him.
Good on that young dude.
Of course, his lack of calls could indicate that he used up all his minutes and texts and has driven us into the poor house from flirting with all the young dudettes who text him constantly. I guess we’ll know later today.