Two minutes.

It's 11:30 on the nose.  I know this because it's exactly two minutes later than the last time I looked at my phone.  Which was exactly two minutes after I looked at it before.  And in two minutes, when I'm done typing this, I'll check it again.

Can you tell that it's Saturday night and Will is out with friends?

After this week, I'm pretty positive that every time he leaves the house, I have a small panic attack.  Ok, so some of them aren't so small.

I know he's no longer a baby, but he's my baby.  And I can't help but worry....it comes with the title of Mom.

And I was wrong...

it took me 4 minutes to type this.