Eleven Eleven

When Bobby was a teen, his curfew was 11:00 pm. We felt that the time was reasonable, since he was carrying a full load at school and playing sports. For some reason; passive disobedience, rebellion, or just plain teenage unawareness, he couldn’t quite make the 11:00 deadline. Mike and I were, of course, already in bed, so Bobby would come in the room and gently wake me up to let me know he was home. I would glance at the clock to see if I needed to go into parental lecture mode. He was usually no more than ten or fifteen minutes late. You know how parents are told to pick their battles? This was one battle I didn’t think was worth it. For quite a number of times, he would get home at exactly 11:11. Over the years that has become “Bobby time.” Whenever we glance at the clock to this day, if it’s 11:11, we announce “Bobby time!” Sometimes he and I call each other just to say hi. And it’s always a race on November 11 to see who calls who first. So, Bobby, remember that for the rest of your life AND mine, 11:11 will always be “Bobby time.”

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