That is what I heard when my cell phone rang at 6:45 this morning. Jack has early morning winter training for crew. (Rowing never ends). He works out and then showers and starts his school day.
When I heard his voice on the other end, I panicked at the panic in his voice. Is he hurt? Is something wrong? No. Just forgot his clothes. Really? Really Jack? Do you remember the post, Really Chip?. The apple does not fall from the tree.
I calm him and tell him to give me 5 and I’ll be right there. Oh no, it doesn’t end there. He directs me to his room and proceeds to list his clothing selections for the day. OMG! I am an Italian mother. Why? Because I did it, I actually stood there, dripping wet from the shower, limping without my boot on my foot and packed up his clothes and drove them to the high school. Two texts of are you here yet?, and package delivered. The question should be, Really Karen?
Amelia says Jack is my favorite. I told my mother that Joey was her favorite and the saga goes back generations. I have Italian friends who baby their sons as well. What is wrong with us? Nothing, but he better not marry a putanna and put me in a nursing home. Nor should I ever hear that phrase “I forgot my clothes” in any other context other than the one I heard it in this morning.
I’m not sure when or if this tradition of babying the son will ever end. Amelia may be the loose link. It all depends on where her life takes her. I tell Jack all the time he must marry a girl with at least some Italian in her in order to fully understand and appreciate him. All I know is when I am a Nonna, I will continue what I started.