About 40 minutes ago, Baby B called me at work and wanted to know if it was okay if he went over to my house because he’s bored at his mom’s. I moved a block away from my ex for this specific reason.
“Sure,” I told him. “Just call me and let me know when you get there. I then reminded him of the rules for being home alone: no playing outside, don’t ever answer the door for anybody, and if there’s an emergency to call 911.
Five minutes pass and my phone rings. It’s Baby B telling me that they’re just now leaving their mom’s house.
“I told you to call me when you got there, not when you left,” I tell him.
“I didn’t want to get in trouble not leaving right away,” he explained.
“Yeah, ” I quipped, “because you get in trouble for that all the time.”
Twenty minutes pass and I have not received a call from either of them. It only takes 5 minutes to walk from her house to mine so I call Baby B.
“Um, where are you?” I ask him after he answered the phone.
“At home,” he answered, meaning my house.
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“I texted you.”
“Son, do you remember why I gave you my work number?”
“Yeah, you don’t get a signal at work.”
“That means I didn’t get your text, son.”
“I texted your work phone.”
“Son, my work phone is a landline. Do we get texts on our home phone?”
“Do you know of any home phones that can text?” I asked this knowing that there is such a thing as home phones that text, but I know he doesn’t.
“So then why would you text my work phone?”
“I don’t know.”
Ugh…. I love my children but sometimes…. Well, just sometimes.