That Boy!

from Saturday...

After returning from the zoo, Hubby took the girls to a classical guitar concert. Connor and I being totally exhausted from our trip lounged lazily around the house. I was tired and irritable and was thinking of calling my sister to lean on her a moment when the phone rings. It's her.

"Whatcha doing?" she asks
"Nothing, thinking about calling you." I answer, and we continue our chatting about the day's events with our children and how things went. I can feel myself getting in a more uplifted mood and the tension in my shoulders dissolve the more we chit-chat and swap stories.

Then I hear a knock on the door. I can see through the drape that it is that boy. That boy, that calls my oldest teen all the time. That boy, that keeps her on the phone forever. That boy, that comes over and sits on my couch and tries to kiss her. That boy, that I had nearly pulled his ear off because rough housing appeared a little too rough. That boy that is not to be trusted because that boy is...well...that boy! With deep breath and still on the phone I open the door.

"Yes?" and as he peers over my shoulder, he moves toward to enter the house. I move forward to block this rudeness because I have not invited him in.
"Is Melody home?"
"No, she went to a concert with her Dad."
"What time is the concert over?"
"I have no idea."
"Well, do you know what time they will be home?"
"No." As I endure the questioning I hear my sister in my ear.
"What the hell? You just said she wasn't home! He's isn't her parent he doesn't need to be questioning you about where your daughter is!" she is furious.
"Well, Melody said they would probably be back by now." he continues as if I have my daughter hidden away and am lying to him.
"I tell ya what, call her Dad and ask him." and as I think about the conversation that would provoke I am sure I am smiling like a Cheshire cat.
"OH! Dortha, you messed up! Daddy is gonna kill him!" my sister says.

I assure her I know what I am doing and invite the boy in so I can write the number down for him.
"So what do I say when I call?" he asks
"Just say what you said when I answered the door." I advise.
"Wouldn't that be kind of rude?"
"But, you just said it to me!"
"Oh ... err....sputter....sputter." and I usher him back out the door.