[phone]
Timmy: “Hi, Mommy!” [he’s 19]
Mommy: “Come home from college, Timmy, it’s almost Mother’s Day. Oh, how are your finals going?”
Timmy: “Waiting for the last one and the hardest one to start. It’s Gandhi.”
Mommy: “What will we talk about when you’ve finished with that Gandhi class?"
Timmy: “Your dolls, I guess. I am working for my dad on Saturday. I might come home sometime Sunday morning or noon. I am playing volleyball with the guys from 2pm to 5pm on Sunday.” [Mommy sees little opening for a Mother’s Day in this schedule]
Mommy: [taking aim at the only possible target] “Timmy, I really doubt that you will be playing volleyball. All those boys will be home with their mothers. Where you should be.”
Timmy: “No, Mom, no, we are playing volleyball.” [Mom’s vision of a hike in north Georgia and lunch at the German restaurant with her only child on Mother’s Day fades]
[24 hours later]
Timmy: “Hi, Mommy! You were right, nobody knew it was Mother’s Day, everybody has to [regretfully] stay home.”
Mommy: “See, I knew that because I am a mother.”
Timmy: “Okay, Mommy, so what would you like to do on Sunday?” [and you, dear Reader, know the rest…Happy Mother’s Day to all]

P.S. If you would like to see some pretty shots of Galveston continuing to come back from the hurricane:
Betty's Blog.