Old people should be in bed, asleep, that time of night so that us nocturnal creatures can peacefully bang and clatter around the kitchen, foraging for something to still the munchies. And why is she up, stirring and reading so late? Get this--I'm chillin' with my friends, it's late, my phone rings, she wants to know where I am and why I'm not home, so she can get to sleep. Seriously dude, look at me . Six four, attitude to spare --who's gonna mess with me? And she thinks I can't take care of myself?!"
Plate loaded, mission accomplished, he kisses me paternally on the back of the head, whispers "drugs mom, drugs', and vanishes into his room. I sip the last of my cocoa and reach the end of the chapter. As I'm closing the book I notice my bookmarker , a relic from years of raising children, says "say no to drugs". Cocoa is drug enough for me. Maybe now I can finally get to sleep.