New Orleans Day 2: Dad Vs. Mr.

After another couple of hours of driving, in which I am convinced that the large yellow "School Transportation" sign saved me from a ticket, Eldest and I unloaded at the hotel and strolled the French Quarter, settling for a nice bar/cafe (Micky's, maybe?) where I had crayfish ettouffe and he had jambalaya. Cuz we in Nawlins!

Picking up 39 other folks at the airport, getting luggage, renting vans, getting folks to the hotel - it was work, after which we had dinner at Mus-something, where the family had eaten not long ago when we were here on spring break. Then the kids had some freedom: 2 hours of wandering time (with strict borders: Canal St., Bourbon St. [and not on Bourbon without an adult] Espanlade St., and the Mississippi River, which I can spell with one "i").

That's when the Dad in me and the Mr went all gamma. Mr. played the role of Bruce Banner - he trusted his students, knew they would be fine and would call if they had an problems. Dad was all "Dad smash!" No way would big irrational dad let his newlyish 14 year-old son loose with friends in the French Quarter. But Eldest is here as a student, not a son, and no one else is here with his dad. Well, only one other kid.

I fought the urge to check up on him more than several times. Hooray for Bruce Banner. 2 hours without incident.

We were all to meet at the cannon across from Jackson park at 9:00. I get there with about six kids and another chaperone, and it looks like everyone else is there. I look for Eldest. Missing.

I look for his friends. Not there.

They are the only ones not there.

I can't decide if I'm more angry that he put me in the awkward position of having to scold him and his friends, embarrassed that he and his friends, the youngest on the trip, are the only ones who missed the first deadline, or just worried.

Eldest, don't make me angry. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry.

But I decided that I shouldn't call him.

I have another chaperone call him instead. I ask her to be firm. And she is.

And they come walking (but quickly) from Cafe Du Monde with cups of iced coffee and new t-shirts. I start writing me "talkin' to" in my head. This is analogous to my eyes turning bright green.

And as they approach the group, the chimes at St. Louis church start ringing. It's nine o'clock. They aren't late at all.

It turns out that they only went to the cafe after they arrived at the check-in, and no one else was there yet.

Good kids.

Lighten up, Dad.

Lesson learned.