Image by iansand via Flickr

My boy has spent the last week house sitting at his dad’s, while they are on vacation.

I miss my son.

A lot.

At first, I didn’t think it would be a bad thing, less laundry to wash, fewer dishes in the sink, and no bickering between the kids.

It hasn’t worked out that way except for the laundry part. The boy still stops by the house on his way to and from work to eat a little something.  In those few moments he is home he manages to pick on his sister just long enough for her to get all worked up for the rest of the day.

I still miss him.  Usually when he is here he is downstairs in his boycave, doing boy things, but I know he is here.

And that gives me comfort.

I’m not so much worried about him as I am just missing his company. I figure, if he gets into any trouble at his dad’s house it is his dad’s problem.

I keep thinking about a mother duck and her ducklings. The duck walks along with her babies following behind. She lets them wander off a little but always has an eye on them and if she gets too far ahead they come running, or waddling, to catch up to her. And then sometimes they fall into a grate and the mother duck freaks out until someone comes along and pulls the duckling out from the sewer.

I miss him so much that mentally remodeling his room no longer makes me happy.

He comes home tomorrow and I can’t wait.

What am I going to do when he goes to college in a year?

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