“Mom, can I take the train in to Boston to go to a Red Sox game with Dan?”
“Just you and Dan?”
(Both kids are only 16. Dan is one of Cait’s many guy friends.)
“Yep.”
“How come he’s inviting you and not one of his buddies?”
“They’re all Yankees fans. I’m the only Red Sox fan he knows.”
(What my daughter also fails to mention is that she lives for adventure!)
“Where does the train get in? How far is it from Fenway Park? What route are you going to walk to get there?”
“We’ll just have a couple of blocks to walk from the station and it’s the main drag with lots of stores.”
[I confer with and get encouragement from Andrew’s brother and sister who live nearby and routinely go to Fenway, and are very familiar with the area.]
“Okay, you can go. But I want Dan’s cell phone number in case your phone dies or you lose it. And promise me that you’ll pay attention, keep an eye out, and be aware of your environment. And that you and Dan won’t let each other out of your sight. Understand?”
“Yep. So you’d like me to hitchhike, walk down dark alleyways, and write my full name and phone number on my forehead.”
“That’s my girl–glad you got it.”
“Love you, Mom. Thanks.”
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