Nolan just called me from school to tell me that he got an 88 on a history test that he was really nervous about even passing.
He was walking down the hallway from one class to the next, and I could hear the sound of his peers swarming around him, in that dull almost-roar that fills high schools between classes before the campus drops back into near silence for 48 minutes.
I told him how proud of him I was, and how happy I was that he took the time to call me and tell me about it.
"I called mom, too," he said, "but now I have to go into class so I gotta go."
"Okay," I said. "I’m really proud of you, Nolan. Have a great weekend at your dad’s. I love you."
"I love you too, Wil." He said. "Bye."
I love it that my 14 year-old told cared enough to call me and share good news about his grades, and told me that he loves me, even though he was surrounded by his peers.