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You Can Run, But You Can't Hide

The other night, I went downtown for a blogger event.  I was totally looking forward to this, not because it was going to be such a grand soirée, but because I’d have a couple hours to relax and be responsible for no one but myself.  I gave my parents last-minute instructions and cruised to the train station in traffic.  I was running late because apparently I’m incapable of getting anywhere on time, but I pulled into the station with like a whole three minutes to spare before the train arrived.  Stressed out and feeling guilty that I had dropped the ball on making dinner for my kids ahead of time, I joined my friend Michelle and sunk into the seat she’d saved me on the train.  I took a deep breath.  “Okay,” I told myself, “I’m off duty now.  Just for the next few hours,  I can do what I want.  I won’t have to break up any arguments.  I won’t have to tell anyone to go to bed 50,000 times.  I won’t have to. . . ”  brrring

I glanced down at my phone to see a text from Austin.  What’s the password for your old laptop so Clay can play a game on it?

I texted the password to Austin, then turned to Michelle.  “Ahhh, it feels nice to sit down.  So, hey, what are you doing tomorrow around lunchtime?  I was just wondering because I have a friend coming over to tape. . .”  brrring

I looked at my phone again. A text from Jackson read, Can I go over to John’s?

Before I even had a chance to text my well-thought out, considerate reply of, I’m off duty!  Ask your grandparents!, my phone rang.

“Mom, can I go over to John’s?”

“Sigh.  Yes, Jackson.  As long as it’s okay with Yia Yia and Papa, you can go, but you’d better be back by 6:00 because you’re getting picked up for hockey then.”

I hung up and turned, apologetically, back toward Michelle when my phone beeped.  This time it was a text from Savannah.  Hey Mom.  Can I have like $20?  Pweeeease?

I looked at Michelle and explained.  “My daughter is hitting me up for money long distance.”

I texted back. Sure!  You know where Yia Yia’s purse is.

Instantly, another text came through.  This time, from Jackson.  Forget it.  I can’t go to John’s after all because his sister is sick.

Before I’d even finished reading that one, another came in.

Can I please have $20?  I’ll love you forever and ever.

John’s mom changed her mind.  I can go over there now.  Is that okay?

Hey Mom, it hurts when I breathe deeply.  I think I might have a fever.

So, can I have some money please?

Can I go to John’s?

Is it bad if you can’t breathe?

Money?

John’s?

Fever!

I shook my head and looked at Michelle.  “Just a minute,” I apologized.  Then I got up and walked to the end of the car while the train came to a halt.  As the doors opened, I whipped my phone out onto the track.

You can get out for a couple hours, but you can never get away.

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