Have You Checked The Children?

Our house has 3 floors. It's not a split level with the fake entrance in the middle where, once you enter the door, you have to pick going up a half flight of stairs or down a half flight of stairs. No, it's a true 3-story with 2 full staircases. From the main floor, it's still a pretty good yell for me to "connect" with one of my kids. If my middle son is up in his room with the door closed and his headphones on, he can't hear me when I call him for dinner. Same goes for my oldest when he's down in the basement. If he happens to be just out in the open down there, it's fine, but take him out of the general population and sequester him in the bathroom or his bedroom and I'm out of luck. This is why I text my children while we're all in the house. 

THE CALL IS COMING FROM INSIDE THE HOUSE!

There have been many times that dinner's ready and Jay can yell as loud as a lunatic with no response, but one quick text and we instantly hear the bang of his chair being shoved back, stomp stomp stomp, and downstairs he comes like Pavlov's dog. If Pavlov's dog could text, I guess. I don't know, I guess texting him to come join us at the dinner table together just makes me feel like an old fashioned Beaver Cleaver sort of mom. 

The other night, though, my oldest son was really pushing his curfew. I was in my room upstairs and Jay was sleeping. As it got closer and closer to his curfew, I started to get a little pissed at his open defiance, especially with not even a call or a text. Good and angry, I texted him first, which does give me a little worry in these situations because if he really IS on his way home, I don't want him to text or check texts while driving, but if he ISN'T on his way home, I want to kick his ass. I can't just call him because neither of my kids uses their phones to TALK. Duh, mom. Texting is apparently easier, more productive, and time efficient. Getting angrier, though, this time I DID call him, and he actually answered. 

Him: Hey. 
Me: Where are you?
Him: In my room?
Me: You are? When did you get home?
Him: Ummmm....a while ago? (Every sentence always ends with a question mark or a really fake ha ha.)
Me: You're really downstairs right now? (Still doubting and also trying to keep him on the line long enough to see if I can detect an echo of his voice 2 floors down.)
Him: Ummm..yeah?
Me: So if I come all the way down there right this minute, you're there right now?
Him: Um, yeah? ha ha. (See? I told you!)
Me: (really unsure now) OK.

We hung up and I realized I was in a parental pickle. If I went down there and he really WAS there, I looked stupid because he already SAID he was there. But he KNOWS I don't come down in the basement, so would he be devious enough to play that hand knowing the odds were definitely in his favor that I wouldn't call his bluff? Does that mean I SHOULD call his bluff, or does that take me back to square one of looking stupid by going down there? 

In the end, I decided (with the long, long walk down AND back up again, as well as the extreme temperature difference between my floor and his floor) that the only thing a good mom could do in this situation was trust her son to be where he said he was, and hope that if he wasn't at least I could rest comfortably knowing he was growing up to be just as crafty and deviant as his mother. Really, isn't that all we want for our children?