How I Foiled My Teenage Son's Attempt To Flee the Country

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This week 7 years ago, I messed up. It’s not what you’re thinking. There were no crazy shenanigans, no drinking or partying involved. I was just being a concerned parent. Now, my son will be reading this sooner or later, and he may not agree with me. Shoot, I don’t even agree with me all the time. But I really do feel bad about what happened 7 years ago.

I should preface my apology to my son with the lame excuse that I was being a paranoid parent at the time. And he was just trying to spread his wings and gain a little independence from his single parent. But really, Steve? Mexico??? Did you really think I would let you sneak out of the country and go into the wilds of Mexico? Crazy things happen in Mexico. Crazy things happen in third world countries! (Actually, crazy things happen right here in Hillbilly, Oklahoma, too, but I digress.)

So, here’s my version of what happened that weekend. Steve and his friend who shall remain nameless (mainly because I can’t remember which one of his friends was roped into attempting the trip) called me up from somewhere around Dallas late Friday night and announced that he and nameless were on their way to the Mexican border and for me not to worry. Well, talk about waving a red flag! That’s like handing the white piece of paper to someone and telling them not to notice the black dot in the center of the page. Yeah. It never works.

Immediately, visions of my son being blindfolded and tied up by the foreign mafia begin to circle like vultures in my head. In the next scene, he’s an old man, emaciated and gray rotting in a Mexican jail cell. Movies in my head show my son and his friend whooping and hollering as they drive down a long dusty road at ninety miles per hour, sloshing Mexican beer out the windows while nubile senoritas yell “Arriba! Arriba!”. (I have no idea why they would be screaming that word as opposed to any other Spanish phrase). Well, there’s no way I was going to let that happen, by golly. I argued with myself for about 10 minutes before calling up the mother of Nameless and spilling the boys’ plans to her. Of course, she was completely clueless and became increasingly concerned as to their welfare. We comforted each other with phrases like: it’s not your fault, you know what boys are like, shopping online is great for relieving stress.

Still not sure what she said to Nameless, but the next thing I knew the boys were on their way back to Oklahoma and my son spent weeks giving me the silent treatment.

He eventually forgave me. Hey, I’m a good Mom. Also cool. Usually. He ended up finally getting his vacation to Mexico after he got a really great job and saved the money up. Nothing happened to him in Mexico. That I know of.

But here’s my apology, son. I’m sorry I overreacted and messed up your plans for a Wild Mexican Weekend.

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