From the Secret Files of a Nutty Mother, Episode 1
Tonight I walked through a pitch-black park by a stream, and put a tablecloth on a picnic table. Then I set out a vase with flowers, lit two candles, put out four Ben and Jerry’s ice creams with spoons, and waited. I waited for the signal. It didn’t come.
I started to hear noises. You know, scary noises like rustling in the bushes, whistling, and footsteps. Where was the blasted signal? Darkness makes me nervous. And with the candles lit, my eyes could see absolutely nothing beyond ten feet of me. More sounds. Noises. Somebody breathing? I paced around a little, tempted to just leave. This was beyond the call of duty as a mother. I mean, please. Covert operations in the woods on a dark night? I’m too old for this.
Finally, the signal. A text jingle. I read the code letter. “D.” That’s all the text said. It meant “we’re standing by the duck pond.”
I texted my response. “A.” That meant, “I’m at the first location we chose. Plan A.” You see, we had to pick two locations in case one had been foiled. But in the original plan, he would arrive at the location at dusk. The candlelight was supposed to be enchanting, not eerie. They were supposed to see the rushing stream, not hear it and imagine it. He'd waited too long.
I hit “send,” and I ran. I left the candles burning in their glass containers, and I ran through the black night, my stomach in knots. That was really scary, and I’m not even sure why.
I jogged around the corner where I had hidden my van. There was my teenage son’s car, parked by the curb. His car and nobody else’s. Hmmmm. He was supposed to be bringing his date and another couple. This little romantic candlelight thing was a surprise for the end of the double date. But the other couple would be in a separate car. Where was it? Had my son hoodwinked me?
For a moment, I didn’t care. I just didn’t like being at the park at night, clear back from the road, deep in the trees, by a rushing stream. I’ve seen too many slasher films, I suppose. So I got in my van and drove off. Mission accomplished.
As I pulled into my driveway, I thought, that might just have been the nuttiest thing I’ve ever done as a mom. No, no, wait—I’m sure there are nuttier things. Give me a moment and I’ll think of something else.
At home, I waited fifteen minutes and sent another text. No code letter this time. Real words. “You were supposed to be with another couple. Five more minutes, then come home.”
Covert operations or not, I’m not a shmutz.
"Sorry. The other couple couldn't stay," he responded.
"Five minutes. Then home."
I started to hear noises. You know, scary noises like rustling in the bushes, whistling, and footsteps. Where was the blasted signal? Darkness makes me nervous. And with the candles lit, my eyes could see absolutely nothing beyond ten feet of me. More sounds. Noises. Somebody breathing? I paced around a little, tempted to just leave. This was beyond the call of duty as a mother. I mean, please. Covert operations in the woods on a dark night? I’m too old for this.
Finally, the signal. A text jingle. I read the code letter. “D.” That’s all the text said. It meant “we’re standing by the duck pond.”
I texted my response. “A.” That meant, “I’m at the first location we chose. Plan A.” You see, we had to pick two locations in case one had been foiled. But in the original plan, he would arrive at the location at dusk. The candlelight was supposed to be enchanting, not eerie. They were supposed to see the rushing stream, not hear it and imagine it. He'd waited too long.
I hit “send,” and I ran. I left the candles burning in their glass containers, and I ran through the black night, my stomach in knots. That was really scary, and I’m not even sure why.
I jogged around the corner where I had hidden my van. There was my teenage son’s car, parked by the curb. His car and nobody else’s. Hmmmm. He was supposed to be bringing his date and another couple. This little romantic candlelight thing was a surprise for the end of the double date. But the other couple would be in a separate car. Where was it? Had my son hoodwinked me?
For a moment, I didn’t care. I just didn’t like being at the park at night, clear back from the road, deep in the trees, by a rushing stream. I’ve seen too many slasher films, I suppose. So I got in my van and drove off. Mission accomplished.
As I pulled into my driveway, I thought, that might just have been the nuttiest thing I’ve ever done as a mom. No, no, wait—I’m sure there are nuttier things. Give me a moment and I’ll think of something else.
At home, I waited fifteen minutes and sent another text. No code letter this time. Real words. “You were supposed to be with another couple. Five more minutes, then come home.”
Covert operations or not, I’m not a shmutz.
"Sorry. The other couple couldn't stay," he responded.
"Five minutes. Then home."
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