I'm getting too old...

There was a long period of time in my life when late nights were not a problem for me.

Honestly, I blame my stint at BYU.  I could be gone all hours of the day or night, and have the energy to go to class the next day.  It was awesome.

AHHH  YOUTH!

It continued into my adult years.  After I moved back to Lincoln, my social hour was after the munchkins went to bed.  My friends would come over around 9pm, and we would sit and talk almost overnight.  The first time, we were all eating pie, out of the same tin, around 2am when the first husband called to make sure his wife was alive.  This continued, party after party.  It became an institution.  If your wife was out at all hours, and you hadn't heard from her, odds are good I had something to do with it.  The true highlight was the night there was no power in my house, and we still sat around and talked in the dark until 2am.

I digress....

Then I had a job where I wouldn't get off work until 11 pm at night, and then I was totally wired for hours.
Unfortunately, approaching 35 (there...  I said it....) has led me to believe that the nights of midnight showings, dancing and hanging out until all hours are pretty much ending.

And then...  ENTER THE TEENAGER.

I'm not gonna lie.  My kids are good.

However...

Imagine a dark bedroom.  The mother and father are sleeping (soundly.. as in snoring).  The red numbers on the alarm clock indicate 3AM...

And the mother wakes.

There has been a disturbance in her force.  She can feel it.

The father wakes also.  He sees the light.

They watch through their open bedroom door, waiting for the tell-tale sign of life in the lair of the teenager.

The big light in the room comes on.

The teenager is warned.

One word.

Her first name.

The light goes off.

The parents wait.  That was too easy.

Only moments later, a smaller, fainter light flickers, then dies quickly.

The mother waits a moment then steals out of her room.

She stands in the dark, right in the doorway of the teenager's room.

She waits...  watching with the patience of predatory cat...  knowing the mistake will come.

(Interruption...  This was a lot less entertaining last night.  Trust me...)


And then...  the lighted vibration of the cell phone illuminates the darkness.

The teenager reaches over the side of the bed.

"BUSTED!"  cries the mother, and the teenager jumps.

The 13 year old is texting.  In the middle of the night.

Can you believe it?


Of course, the phone is now mine for the undetermined future.

The other electronics in the room, books and "crafting" supplies are also being confiscated.

Where did she get this???

Oh wait..  that was me...  23 years ago, with my desk lamp and a book under my covers.

Once again.

I'm sorry mom.

Part of me thought about keeping her up all night, 36 hours straight, just to teach her.

Then I realized that I would have to stay up with her.

I am way too old for that...