Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407
I honestly don’t know what possessed me to crash my son Tyler’s graduation bash, but when the music started pumping and the red solo cups began making their rounds, I figured I’d play the “cool mom” for a few hours. I was lounging on the couch with a drink when Tyler’s friend Jax suggested a round of spin the bottle. Of course, at first, I thought it was a joke, but the peer pressure from a dozen tipsy twenty-somethings was surprisingly effective. It wasn’t long before I found myself sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by boys who all looked like they could be my son’s clones. Jax handed me a plastic bottle and winked.
As it began to spin, I held my breath and hoped it wouldn’t land on Tyler, because that would have been a level of mortification from which my soul might never recover. Tyler, who was busy hiding his face in his hands, thankfully shared the same sentiment. I looked up, bracing myself to find the bottle pointing at someone’s uncomfortable-looking roommate, but it was pointing directly at Jax.
