Stephen texted, again. [For the thousandth time] “Will you please check the balance in my account? I have to buy a bear license for tomorrow and want to make sure I have enough in there.”

Oh my good heck! You are 23 years old. Can you just learn how to check your own account? [I didn’t say this out loud.]

He said, “If you aren’t near a computer I could just drive into town and go to the bank and figure it out.”

I said, “No, I’ll check. But if you would just write down two numbers you could call the bank anytime, day or night, and figure it out for yourself.” I mean, seriously, I go to bed around 8 p.m. and sometimes he calls at nine to ask his balance! For Pete’s sake!

But then I realized it’s really a wonderful thing that he calls or texts me every single day. I get to hear his voice and know what he’s doing and where he’s going and how he’s feeling.

It’s pretty hard to get anything else out of this busy, social, hard-working 23-year old son. So I’ll count my blessings where they are.

I’m tearing up the two numbers he needs to learn in order to get that information himself.

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