If you give a girl a Slurpee it will break your mothers heart.

Last night I called my son and ask him if he wanted me to bring him dinner and a Slurpee on my way home.

“I’m not home. I am at Leah’s.  I brought her a Slurpee because she’s sick.”

I couldn’t have been more shocked if he said, “I shaved my head and joined the circus.”

Since the day Michael saw the magical frozen concoction flowing from the Slurpee machine I have been his Slurpee slave.  He had no qualms about sending his own mother out in my pajamas, in rain, snow, sleet or hail to feed his addiction.  We investigated a Slurpee addiction support group but I was too tired to drive him after making all the Slurpee runs.

Until last night I didn’t even know that he knew how to operate the machine all by himself.

Michael’s motto is if you can get mom to do it for you, why do it yourself? I think he may have had that put on a t-shirt or on a pillow for me for Mother’s Day.

This Slurpee delivery boy would be the same child that asks me to buy hand sanitizer for his bathroom because washing AND drying his hands is just too much trouble.

He has to be prompted to take the trash out every Thursday like it’s the inaugural pick up. We have lived here for twelve years.

For weeks at a time he will dress in the living room from his clean clothes pile on the couch to avoid carrying the laundry basket down a flight of stairs.

Do you get the picture?

Now I was faced with the fact that he had gotten up, driven to 7-11, purchased Slurpee’s and delivered one to a GIRL!!!! This is serious stuff.

I knew she was beautiful, smart and funny but the fact that she is Slurpee worthy is another story.

Next thing you know his laundry will be piled up on her couch and she will be taking out the trash and making Slurpee runs.

Wait. I may not be so heart broken after all.