There's been a pile of footwear by our front door all week. Sometimes neatly arranged like above. Other times messily strewn about with some wet boots and a few pair of lady shoes thrown in the mix.
While College Boy does like his kicks, these are not all his. He had two friends come over on Sunday night and I think they've moved in. Some nights there are 2 or 4 others also sleeping on the floor in the basement Man Cave.
Meanwhile, hubby and the cat get no time alone while he's working from home. He's kindly served the guests delicious breakfasts (usually in the early afternoon) at Jimmy's Bed and Breakfast. The rest of the day there's a whole lotta video-gaming and napping going on. Occasional sledding and bonding with girls. And the fridge and cupboards are getting pretty bare.
It's the most wonderful time of the year, right?
Really. It is.
We could be upset about our "home turned sloth hibernation zone" but as a parent of a teenager – and you others will agree – it's nice to know where he is. Exactly.
And that he's safe. (Except for tonight, naturally, when they venture out while the area is on ice-storm lockdown. Boys.)
Of course, winter break will come and go. College Boy will insist he was "home the whole time" so I can't complain about not spending time with him. He's got me on semantics.
We do still have another week or so "with" him. Hopefully we'll get some one-on-one time during that span.
And, well, hopefully the smell of feet won't linger too much beyond that.
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