Life as a Janitor

A few weeks back Spouse and I declared Mission Accomplished as our last kid graduated from High School and got a job. 

He works at the local brewery, which happens to be across the street from the Community Garden.  This morning I was on my way down to water our distressed patch of weeds and I saw Number Three Son doing some outdoor work*.  I waved to him and had a revelation:

"I could go down there every day, check up on how hard he is working, and have a cold glass of beer in the Hospitality Room!"

Although for the life of me I cannot think of any reason that I can't do this, Spouse has pointed out several reasons why I shouldn't.

This has not been the only mental adaptation necessary.  A few weeks ago he was in High School.  Wearing a shirt with any reference to beer was banned by dress code.  Now, required by dress code.

And under the wide ranging rules on such matters, in High School anything remotely resembling a weapon was banned by regulations that were enforced in draconian fashion.  Now?  Spouse noted that as he was heading out the door he put some sort of Swiss Army/Leatherman/pocket knife device in his pocket.

Spouse: "Are you sure that's OK?"

Son #3:  "Mom, I AM a janitor!"

Why yes, yes you are.  And from what I can see waving and strolling by, a darned fine one at that.
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*It is hard to describe the pleasure in seeing your kid hard at work when you have the day off.