i am still slightly concerned about the laptop

Emily is now two weeks into her college career, and I am here to report that we are all surviving.  For the first three or four days I texted her multiple times with various pieces of completely unsolicited advice.  When I sent her a message telling her not to leave her laptop on her windowsill if she goes out just in case it rains while she’s gone and some rain blows in, I realized it may be time to REIGN IT ON IN.

In addition to my completely rational concern about her technological equipment and its proximity to the windowsill in a rainstorm, I was anxious about her navigating that huge campus on her first day of class, and having approachable professors and someone to eat with in the dining commons.  

But the thing I was most nervous about?  Her first party.  She’s not a big party girl, but I know it’s only a matter of time until she goes to her first apartment soiree, and I just remember me my friends who spent a Saturday night here and there believing that there was no finer beverage than a plastic cup of jungle juice that was scooped out of a large Rubbermaid container of questionable history and cleanliness.

Over the past few weeks Matt has heard hours of “OH MY GOSH DO YOU THINK SHE’S AT A PARTY” and “I HOPE SHE DOESN’T WALK ANYWHERE ALONE” and “DO YOU THINK I SHOULD TEXT HER A GENERIC MESSAGE TO MAKE GOOD CHOICES?”

The other night I was lying on the sofa when got a text from Emily that said, “Hey, I’ll call you later tonight after I get home from the party.”  I flew off that sofa and tossed my phone to Matt and said, “Look. Em just texted me.  She’s going to call after the party.  SHE’S GOING TO A PARTY.”

And Matt smiled and said she’d be fine and that he hoped she knew to steer clear of the jungle juice.  A few hours later my phone rang.  “You were at a party?!” I said.  She cracked up.  “No! I was at the poster sale in the HUB!  Matt texted me and said to tell you I was at a party.  We thought it would be funny to trick you.”

They are a riot.

We were talking a few nights later and Em said she’d done four hours of chemistry homework that afternoon.  Matt asked her what a covalent bond is, and she responded with some scientific mumbo jumbo.  “She’s right,” he said.   “That’s a covalent bond.  It’s the strongest type of bond there is.”

Ok, now we’re talking.

In the last week I have told Matt no less than fifty times I’m so glad that we have a covalent bond.  He loves it, obviously.

I think this college thing is going to be good, for all three of us.