Because it’s never too early to plan for college
The first is a small college that was practically in the back yard of our old house. Boots likes it because we used to walk there to eat ice cream and feed the ducks. The latter is my alma mater. He likes it because he's been brainwashed since he was a baby.
No matter where he goes, though, he's assured me that I'm going with him.
"You have to," he insists. "I'll miss you too much."
But where will I live, I ask.
You can live in my room.
Oh, great, I mentally groan. If the dorms weren't much fun at 18, I'm sure they won't be at 59. I try to shift blame and get out of it. I don't know if your roommate will like that, I say.
OK, then you can get a camper.
I suppose I can deal with that as long as you get me football tickets, I say.
I will unless it's a game everyone wants to go to and they run out, he promises. Hey, Mom, the Warriors don't have a football team, do they? I guess I'll have to go to WVU.
That's my boy! Let's goooooooooooo, Mountaineers!
Hey, Mom, will they feed me at college or do you have to cook for me?
"You?" What's this "you" stuff, I wonder. I've done my time with Top Ramen and cheap mac and cheese.
They'll feed you, I assure him. But you'll have to get up and dressed to go to breakfast, I sort of lie, remembering that my freshman year was when I started sleeping in my sweats.
He's a morning person, so he has no problem with getting up and getting dressed. But he suddenly remembers another complication.
Mommy, it snows in West Virginia and you don't like snow. What are we going to do? he frowns.
Maybe I can stay with you in the fall and spring then go somewhere warm when it starts to snow. Would that be OK? I ask.
Oh, all right, he says. But I'm going to Skype you every day after breakfast, he promises.
You got a deal!
Copyright 2010 Debra Legg. All rights reserved.