Am I supposed to be somewhere?

My son Justin called me one day last week. He was looking for someone to pick him up.

I was busy and told him I wouldn’t be able to pick him up for half an hour.

His response was, “Is that a mom half hour or a dad half hour?”

Hoping that the “dad half hour” was the worst of the two, I took a chance that if I told him it would be the “mom half hour” it was going to be well received.

Still, I’m guessing we’re not the only parents whose children really can’t set their watches by.

Actually, do kids even watches anymore?

But I digress.

I get what he means. As a parent you’re running late, your kids calls asking where you are. Not wanting to be nagged for being later than you promised you say, “I’m two minutes away.”

In reality, you’re probably 10 minutes away, but two minutes sounds better.

Unless you’re really 20 minutes away. Maybe that’s where the “dad half hour” thing kicks in.

Sometimes Justin will call (and I hope he’s not reading this, otherwise the jig is up) to see when I’m leaving work. Then he’ll call again after some time has passed to see if I’ve left yet or if I’m almost home.

“Yep,” I tell him. “I’m on my way.” wear

In reality, many times as I’m taking these phone calls I’m walking from the front door of our office to my car in the parking lot. But seeing whereas a minute ago I was sitting in a chair in my office and now I am in a moving motion it counts as “on my way.”

“So you’ve left work,” he says. “Yep,” I tell him. It’s not a lie. Not that it should matter, little lies are part of parenting.

When my oldest son Jacob was around three or four years old I can remember going to a fast food restaurant. Not wanting to have to deal with the hassle of going inside that day, plus I had other errands, I said we were going through the drive-thru.

“Awwww…..” came from the back seat.

“Sorry,” I said, “I only have out- the voice door money.”

“Oh, okay,” he said, content with my response.

Hmmmm…..apparently onto something.

For the next number of months whenever we’d go to this place he’d always ask if I had indoor or outdoor money, not realizing that the answer would depend on my mood as opposed to what was inside my purse.

Some days I had indoor money. Other days I only had outdoor money.

I thought I was absolutely brilliant until one day, as we were pulling into the parking lot, I chimed, “We’ll have to go through the drivethru, I only have outdoor money.”

“I don’t believe there is such a thing as indoor or outdoor money,” he said, quite matter-of-factly. I was My deception days were over. Oh well, it was good while it lasted.

Meanwhile, it’s safe to say I’ll never always be home at the exact moment I say I will be.

Case in point. Youngest son calls one evening and asks when I’ll be home.

I give him my guesstimate. After some time goes by he calls again, asking if I’ve left work and if I’m on my way home.

“Yep,” I tell him, leaving out the part I’ve taken a slight detour and I’m now standing on the waterfront taking a photo of a sunset.

I’m not sure if moments like that fall in the “mom half hour” or the “dad half hour” category, but the photos I’m getting are definitely worth the price of being a little late.

Outdoor money, it is.