he's right, of course…

The other night, at 10:30, I peeked into Youngest’s room.  It was dark.  I stepped in to give him a kiss good-night and stopped when I saw a glow under the covers.  Could it be?  Could it possibly be? Could my Youngest actually be reading in bed? I mean, I did that all the time when I was 14. 

Uh, no.

That bluish glow?  Cell phone.

He was texting. At 10:30.

I reached out my hand.

"Hand it over."

"What?"

"It is 10:30.  Way past bedtime.  Say ‘good-bye’ and give me the phone."

He turned back to his phone. 

Minutes went by.  He studiously ignored my loudly tapping foot.

"WHAT are you doing?"

"Just wait a second. I’m saying good-bye."

"A simple "g-n-i-t-e" would suffice."

He glared at me, finished the message and handed me the phone.

"Don’t you dare read this," he ordered me sternly as I turn to leave.

"I know you’re tempted."

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