Standing at the airport waiting for Teenwolf and his fellow rugby tourers to arrive back after 2 weeks playing rugby in South Africa. It felt like a long time. For us.
As we waited a few conversations with other parents were held.
Me ‘Did you hear from your one?’
Woman 1 ‘No’
Me ‘You? ’
Woman 2 ‘Nothing.’
Woman 3 ‘Oh I got a text from my one. Asking for money.’
Me ‘I texted Teenwolf and asked him how it was going and he texted his father ‘Tell Mum to back off!’’
Back off!?!@$% We were in different continents. If I backed off any further I’d have been on the Virgin Galactic Space Craft inaugural journey.
As fellow parents laughed at their lack of communication and acknowledged relief they were all back in one piece. The doors opened and 30 strapping lads were disgorged into the arrivals hall.
As Mums and Dads craned their necks to get a glimpse for their returning offspring they continued striding on straight to the carousel to retrieve their bags.
I caught Teenwolfs eye. He nodded. Barely perceptible to the untrained eye but if it’s all you’ve had in 2 weeks it feels like a warm embrace.
The joys of the teenager.
