He wants to bring three friends home with him, and says they will sleep out on the balcony. (Cold, raining, etc.)
When I express my disbelief that this is the emergency that caused him to wake me from my sleep, he protests:
"But it's five! I mean, you get up at six, and that's just an hour away!"
I refuse to have teenaged boys with perfectly good homes sleeping on my balcony all day, and hang up. But my nerves and my heart are all jangled, and it takes nearly fifteen minutes for the latter to slow its racing to a normal beat. I am unable to fall immediately back to sleep, but am relaxed in the bed and beginning to get drowsy when the phone rings AGAIN.
"But Mom, they can't go home, Andrew -- and Travis -- and Nick -- " Joe is babbling really fast, hoping that I will be overwhelmed with his flood of speech and give in, but I do not. I hang up, and get out of bed, at five-fifty on a Saturday morning, and shower. While I am making my coffee, the key turns in the lock, and a very sheepish, hangdog boy slinks in.
"Ummm -- sorry, Mom," he says.