I'm not Barbie

BoilerBaby2 has an ex-roommate, and move-in day is still weeks away.

Surely, that must be a world record? A national record? A state record? Either way, here's how it went down: the mother of BoilerBaby's now ex-roommate called him and asked that BoilerBaby 2 switch rooms with her son's best friend because they really wanted to room together. According to Barbie, it'd only be switching to the room next door. Yes, I did write that the ex-roomie's mother called. And yes, I did write that the two best friends were only going to be separated by a wall. But I guess they need to breathe the same air. And yes, the mom's real name is "Barbie."

There is a lot wrong with this, in my opinion. Why is the kid's mother calling for him? Is he incapable of working his own i-Phone? Did he know that his mommy is taking care of things for him? Is his mommy going to tuck him each night? Do his laundry each weekend? Ask his profs for extensions on his assignments?

And why is Barbie calling my son? Scared of talking directly with me as opposed to an 18 year old boy? What kind of reputation do I have?

When it's all said and done, we've had great fun with this. I'm convinced that Barbie is the prototype of the "helicopter mom" who will likely tuck her little pumpkin in each night and have warm cookies and cold milk waiting after a hard day at college. BoilerBaby 2 keeps asking for little favors and reminding me that Barbie would probably do it.

Whatever.

BoilerBaby 2 agreed to the switch. Probably a good move.