The Boy was kind enough to show off his new fashion accessory last night. It’s going to be a part of him for the next two months. After hearing about this deal, I wonder that he didn’t just choose being in jail for the next two months instead: he has to be in the house (not even the garage) by 8pm; he needs to get permission from his probation officer to do anything later than that. He has to have weekly drug and alcohol tests, as well as 3-hour counseling sessions every Sunday afternoon. His driver’s license is gone-zo until he’s 21 (like that matters; he’s been dropped off our insurance for a while).
The phone is a bit of a pain, but not as much of one as it could be. To leave the line clear for the ankle bracelet’s receiver to do its thing, we’re supposed to limit calls to five minutes. The monitoring service can call at any time. That’s not such a big deal; we have smellphones for longer calls and can turn off the ringer at least in our bedroom.
But I hope last night isn’t going to be typical: since he couldn’t go carouse with his “good friends,” they came to FAR Manor. All evening. And the ones who weren’t popping in and out like blink dogs were calling well into the wee hours. At least one of them had been drinking before (I hope) he got here, and ended up falling asleep in The Boy’s room. I took him home this morning, along with some pointers on how The Boy’s real friends will conduct themselves around him: no booze, no drugs, and no late-night calls. I’m sure it went in one ear and out the other, even though he assured me he’d pass the word around.
We all get to enjoy this time together, I suppose…