Mom's Not Here Right Now

Being in middle school, Mikie is now a latch key kid.  Or, that's what he would be called if this was the '80s.  We live within a two mile radius of the middle school (just under one mile), so he walks home from school (or rides his bike), lets himself in, makes a snack and does his homework before killing his brain cells with video games.  

Shortly after school started, we learned that he was answering the phone when people would call, not knowing that the only people who call after school are usually telemarketers.  I was appalled one day to here him tell someone a story, "This guy called, and I told him he had the wrong number.  Then he called AGAIN, so I told him the number he called was xxx-xxx-xxxx and that he needed to check what he dialed.  But, he called a THIRD time, and I told him to stop calling because he had the wrong number and my parents weren't home."  I was annoyed that I hadn't taught him "stranger danger" and to not answer the phone when your parents weren't home, to NEVER tell people you were home alone.  All things that, as a latch key kid of the 80s (or maybe a kid whose parents were born and raised in NY) you were told to do for fear of being abducted.  I never taught my kid to fear people because I didn't want them to be paranoid.

Obviously, we've had honest conversations since then.  It hasn't kept Mikie from going up to strangers and petting 15 dogs in the park on the way home from school.  But, he no longer answers the phone.  And, when he does, he knows not to say, "my mom's not home."  

Well, today, the doorbell rang.  I was multitasking:  talking on the phone while putting a load of laundry in the dryer, so Pavlov's dogs (aka, Mikie and Hannah) went running from door to door, in a race to see who was there.  When they determined it wasn't one of their friends, Mikie said, "Mom, it's for you."  Again, multitasking, so I yelled, "Just answer it and I'll be there in a minute."  I assumed it was someone polling for Hillary or Bernie in advance of the primaries.  Nope.  Jehovah's Witnesses.  And, from the bathroom/laundry closet, I can hear Mikie open the door, saying, "My mom's busy in the bathroom. . . doing laundry."  Amazingly, they just looked at each other, handed him a pamphlet while smiling awkwardly, and walked away.  Even as he yelled after them, "She'll be right back!"

Lesson learned:  Overly honest children are a great deterrent to unwanted solicitors.  

Love, The Trahans