Last night, I picked up my 15 year old son from the airport, after having sent
him off a week ago to Cancun.  It was a trip he kept insisting he didn't want to
go on - I had forced him.  This is true - he only went because I sent a note to
his Spanish teacher telling her I'd hate for Sean to miss out on such an
opportunity.  When the turbo-prop pulled up to the terminal, he was practically
the first one off the plane, with the biggest smile on his face.  He said he was
the first one onto the van to the airport, off the plane, on the plane, off the
plane, on the plane the whole way home because he couldn't wait to get back.  On
his day of departure, he informed me he doesn't like waking up in foreign
places.  I asked what he was talking about, since he's gone camping in Canada a
few times before, but that's as foreign as it gets.  He clarified that sleeping
over at a friend's house is a foreign place.

On the drive home, he wouldn't stop talking about this trip that he didn't want
to go on.  Alejandro, the tour guide was really good, and for the first time,
I've heard about Mary, a junior who doesn't date freshmen and is "just a friend
to EVERYONE, Mom." and who found out his phone number and plans on calling this
week while school's out.  This is the first time he's ever mentioned any girl as
being a friend (not including when he was 5 and told me Beth looks nice in a
dress).

Sean's growing up is as much an experience for me as it is for him.

- Pam