Today, at lunch, I attempted to call Elder on his phone.
“Hello,” he answered in a whisper.
“Hey,” I responded. “Are you done with football practice?”
“We’re hanging out,” he told me, still whispering but with an edge to his voice.
“Okay?” I murmured, confused.
“Look, Mom, I’ll talk to you later,” he whispered before I had an answer to the question I needed to ask. “Bye.”
Pulling my phone away from my ear, I studied the brightly lit screen, trying to determine the seriousness of the little pings bouncing on my mom radar screen.
Fortunately, about ten minutes later, after a couple of impatient texts sent to both boys, my phone suddenly trilled with Elder’s designated ringtone. And no one was dead or even seriously injured or hiding some evil secret — like a girl — from his mother.
And, now, I will — randomly — make a public announcement.
If you receive a call from me while you are occupied in a restroom, you don’t have to answer. You can just call me back.
In fact, I would prefer you would.