My Scrambled Nest

An Almost-Empty Nest Journey of "Letting Go" With Laughter and Love, By Cathy Free

It’s been a week since my son moved into his new college dorm, and now that he’s discovered the joy of having freedom from his parents, I’ve barely heard from him. Tonight, though, I figured out how to get a response when I texted him a snap of some freshly-baked muffins:

SON (texting immediately): “What? How come I don’t get any?”

MOM: “Well, I’ve been texting and texting for three days, but alas, no reply. Yum…these sure are good. Oh, my — almost gone!”

SON: “No way! I want at least five. Will they keep until the weekend?”

Mom: “Hmmmmm. I don’t know — they’re awfully moist and buttery. Think I’ll have another.”

SON:  “Save me some for the weekend!”

MOM: “Possibly. Maybe. Perhaps. Damn! The cherry jam and the butter is dripping everywhere, but these really are to die for.”

SON: “I want my own personal batch when I come home for dinner on Sunday!”

MOM: “Do you promise to finally send me your class schedule?”

SON: “Yeah, OK. Sending it now. My own batch!”

After this exchange, I’m now wondering: If I get this kind of a result with whole-grain muffins, imagine what would happen if I texted pics of a black-cherry clafoutis or a dark chocolate soufflé? Hmmmmmmm.

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