John and I were away for a weekend in the country, cross-country skiing with friends. Ronan, understandably, had no desire to join us. What? You DON’T want to clamber all over farmer’s fields with a bunch of middle aged people, then sit around the fire discussing mutual funds? What’s WRONG with you? (In our defense, we’re not that boring, but to a 15 year old boy, the company would be beyond stultifying.)
And so it came to pass that we left our youngest child home by himself for the first time. It made sense, as he is too old for Home Alone-style danger, but too young for Risky Business. And there was great rejoicing across the land, and many festive plans were made, and then un-made, as the children of the kingdom were told in no uncertain terms that the castle was to be a festival-free zone for the duration. In fact, as it turns out, Ronan had so much piled-up schoolwork – resulting from his exchange to Australia last term – that he spent the weekend hitting the books. At least that’s my impression. For all I know, there are hookers in the closet and a Porsche in the lake, but I doubt it.
Five years ago, we left his older brother home alone for the first time. Aidan had a couple of his friends over to keep him company, and no sooner had we pulled out of the driveway than they stepped out to the backyard to sample what Miley Cyrus once claimed was salvia. The reason we knew this is that our well-meaning but interfering neighbor called us to tell us. We now refer to him as Narc. In any case, we called home to tell Aidan we knew what he was up to, but didn’t tell him how we knew. As we didn’t have security cameras, he was completely flabbergasted, and probably spent the rest of the weekend engaged in bible study and quiet contemplation. Ha ha. The walls have eyes, little man.