From as far back as I could remember anytime I was getting dress to go out (movies, dinner, party, etc) my older son Anthony would give me the third degree.
Where you going?
Who you going with?
How are you getting there?
Who else will be there?
Do you have money in your wallet for a cab?
Is there enough gas in the car?
Is your cell phone charged?
What time will you be returning?
You would swear he was my father. But that wasn't the end of my interrogation. Right before I left I was also giving a set of rules.
Don't take drinks from anyone you don't know.
Don't ride in a car with people who are drunk.
Don't walk alone.
Make sure to stay in well lite areas.
Make sure you have extra cab money.
Don't go home with people you don't know.
Don't leave the group you went with.
Don't leave your personal items unattended.
By the time I was ready to leave he was saying prayers by the front door. After he did this a couple of times I got use to it. I would even mock him sometimes. But I also reassured him every time I left that I would follow the rules.
Me and my husband would laugh about it all the time, telling our friends and family about Anthony's pray session every time we went out. That was until one day while watching TV during Carnival time in Trinidad a PSA came on. To my shock it was a little boy giving his mother who was getting dress to go out the same rules and regulations. I guess he was really on to something. (WHO KNEW??)
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