Story of the Day 1/25/2011

I still have three children.
This was somewhat in doubt , earlier today.
Ely had gotten her brother fed, dressed, packed up and out the door. This was at about 3:50 A.M.
The greyhound station is less than a 6 minute walk from her apartment and she thought he could successfully manage to get there on his own and get on his bus to come home.
Ely later told me that she felt “free’. She had just about gotten to the point where she was going to strangle him the next time he said a word.
She said, “I am not ready to be a parent. Don’t’ think I will ever be ready.” And then she thanked me for not strangling her when she was growing up.
Of course, I said to her, now she understands the occasional screaming and the slightly more than occasional 4 –letter words that I would utter.


Meanwhile, Aaron had successfully made it to the bus depot and stood an waited in the cold for 15 minutes, and then 20 minutes and then 25 minutes. The bus was running late.
Finally, it arrived, and the bus driver refused to allow him on.
This is because he had neglected to print pout the ticket he had bought on-line.
Normally, this would not be a problem, but the station in Binghamton isn’t a 24 hour one, like in Indianapolis. They would be closed until 8 A.M.
So Aaron trudged back to Ely’s.

Ely took one look at him and started repeating the mantra,” Only 547 more minutes till I get rid of him, only 546 more minutes until….”
Okay, she didn’t’ , really, because first she had to find out when the next bus was.
So Ely went on-line to find out when the next bus would be, and then she started repeating that mantra.
Later today, she took him back to the station, helped him exchange his “ticket” , and got him with his printed ticket onto the bus.

How do I know all of this?
Because G-d made texting.
I was the recipient of a long string of texts that I suspect were her way of letting off some tension so she did not strangle him.
The last text she sent me , before he left Binghamton was sent at exactly 1:14 PM. It said:
“At the bus station, ticket printed and in hand, full of diner food, departing at 2 twenty . Snacks and book in possession. High hopes. Foxtrot.”

And I can just visualize her doing a very animated and happy foxtrot back to her apartment after his bus has driven away.