Tomorrow we’ll take our eldest son back to University, having taken the younger to his a fortnight ago. After that it’ll be just our daughter with us. Well, and the dog, but he tends not to generate laundry, require so much attention or need to be driven around.
Hmm, having thought a nanosecond about that I’m recalling all the muddy clothes and trips to the forest needed to calm him down from his usual hyper-active Springer Spaniel self, so maybe that last sentence wasn’t as accurate as it could have been.
Of course all this will be moot if our eldest can’t get himself out of bed and packed today. It’s currently 11:41 and I’ve tried to wake him up, oh, a good half dozen times so far. So for all those who wonder if their teenagers will grow out of it, they may well do, eventually, but at nearly 22 our eldest hasn’t quite got there yet. You’ll know when he does because I’ll be cartwheeling and singing. There may even be banners and a party.
So although I feel like a bit of an unnatural mother for feeling this way, I’m nowhere near suffering empty nest syndrome yet.
The Wrong Trouser Leg of Understanding 
I say send the Spaniel in to do the work. Boundless energy plus a wet tongue usually does the trick. He’s your man for the job. 😉
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I’d be lying if I said the dog had never been asked to ‘help’ wake eldest up. Not quite resorted to a bucket of water yet. Mainly because I suspect it wouldn’t do our elderly house any good.
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