I haven’t spent much time with my son since he became a full-fledged teenager, but neither have any of my friends with boys of similar age. I am proud of how independent he has become, but I do miss him. Thanks to J.K. Simmons, the first person to receive an Oscar last night, my son showered me with unexpected attention. During Mr. Simmons’ acceptance speech he encouraged anyone with a mother or father to reach out to them with a phone call or a conversation, the length of which determined by the parent.

As Mr. Simmons walked offstage my phone rang. It was my teenaged daughter, who was watching the Oscars at the house of one of her friends. My daughter is a rule follower, so immediately I asked her if she called me because of what Mr. Simmons said. “Yes”, she laughed.

My son had also been watching the Oscars at a friend’s house, but he waited until he got home to follow through with Mr. Simmons’ suggestion.

“Mom, do you want to go out for breakfast tomorrow?” he said. Thank you, Mr. Simmons! I felt like Snoopy in a Peanuts comic strip when he dances with pure joy because it’s suppertime, but of course I acted as if it happened all the time.

“Sure, honey. Where should we go?”, I asked casually, barely taking my eyes off the closing Oscars number.

“Jack’s Bagels”, he answered.

Mornings for most families are unlike those in sitcoms. We are not blessed with an unlimited amount of time to casually make and enjoy coffee, read the paper and converse with each other while in a mood that is more reflective of having been awake for a few hours and not having just woken up and rushing around to get out the door.

I knew his current school schedule allowed him until 9 a.m. to arrive, so I quickly calculated in my mind that if I got up by 6:30 I would have time to do the dishes from the night before, get the plants out to soak up the few drops of rain the weatherman promised the next morning, feed the dog, start a wash, read the paper, make my daughter’s lunch and get her off to school by 8 a.m. This would leave me with plenty of time to get to the bagel shop and enjoy breakfast with my son.

At 8 a.m. I stuck my head inside his door, reminding myself that the mood swings of a teenager might take effect and that breakfast might not happen. Would I accept this? If I didn’t, he would get mad at me, and I ran the risk of putting him in a bad mood for our breakfast. I asked if he still wanted to go. Even though he was still in bed he responded in the affirmative, so I casually told him I would be ready in 10 minutes, even though I had been ready for 20.

I grabbed the dog and its leash thinking that I not only could spare my son from having to drive me back home but I could give the dog his morning poop-walk from the school back to our house. I walked out the front door and was talking with a neighbor when my son emerged from the house heading for his car. I walked over, put the dog in the back seat, and got in. We headed to Jack’s, arriving at the same time as some friends of his.

“Hey, man”, each of them said.

“Hey”, my son said.

“Hi Mrs. B.”, one of them said. I panicked. He looked familiar, but I couldn’t remember his name. Did I know his mom? Had he been in pre-school with my son? Was he on his basketball team? Was he a former student of mine? Panic set in. I told myself to relax, just return the greeting. But don’t say “Hey”. Don’t try to be cool. Finally, something came out.

“Hi! How are you?” I said with my warmest smile.

We advanced in line and my son asked me what I wanted. I ordered my bagel and he ordered his. I was so happy being there with him in the bagel shop. I hadn’t embarrassed him by starting a lengthy conversation with his friends, I hadn’t asked him too many questions on the way there, and here I was about to spend some quality time having breakfast with him! I rarely ate this early, and I wasn’t the least bit hungry, but I was determined to shove a bagel down my throat if it meant quality time with my son! This hadn’t happened in a long time and I was going to enjoy every minute of it.

I glanced at a clock and saw that we would have a solid 40 minutes together, and it was only about one minute back to his school. I saw a nice table in the corner that would be perfect for us to sit at with plenty of space around it for his long legs. I was just about to head over to it when the cashier spoke.

“For here or to go?”, she asked.

“To go”, my son said.

To go? No! Not ‘to go’! Was he sure? It took everything in me not to protest. Against every instinct and muscle in my body, I accepted his answer and stepped away from the counter where we would wait for our order. I figured I was now only going to have about 10 minutes with him, so I began a conversation. The conversation I had thought about since I had awakened that morning and had saved for the time we would be sitting at a table having breakfast.

There were three main things I wanted to discuss with him, and we actually conversed about each one. Maybe not in the way I had hoped, but at least my queries were discussed. When he dropped me off six minutes later, I think I felt just as good as I would have had the breakfast been longer. Just being with him for even a small amount of one on one time was blissful.

I love my teenager and I know he loves me!