What time is it? It's time to go back to school, son.

I woke up at 2:00 a.m. and noticed that the light in the living room was still on.

Odd, I thought, on a weeknight. Middle Son told me he had to be somewhere by 8:00 a.m.

But the light was on. This meant (a) he wasn't yet home, (b) he was home but had not come upstairs, or (c) he'd come upstairs but forgot to put out the light.

Now Middle Son never turns the porch light off when he comes in, but he usually manages to turn off the living room light we leave on for him so he doesn't trip over something coming into the house. So (c) seemed like the least likely alternative.

But it was 2:00 a.m. and sorting through all this was beyond my abilities at that hour. I went back to bed.

I slept fitfully, though, and was awake again at 3:00 a.m. The light was still on.

I became concerned. Not alarmed, mind you, but concerned. I looked out the window and I thought I saw the car across the street that Middle Son was driving. Or had he driven tonight? I couldn't remember. I checked his room. He wasn't there.

So this time, I went downstairs to look for him. If he wasn't home, I'd call his cell phone. If I couldn't reach his cell phone, then I'd become alarmed.

I wasn't halfway across the living room when Middle Son and I spotted each other. He was in the den, seated at the computer, typing away merrily.

"Yo! Pops!" he greeted me. "What's up?"

"You, for one thing," I mumbled. "You're supposed to be helping the freshmen move in this morning at 8:00 aren't you?"

"But Dad," Middle Son responded, "I won $30 at poker tonight."

He seemed to think that a perfectly logical response. I guess I had interrupted Middle Son in the middle of his informing everyone in his acquaintance about his good fortune.

It's definitely time for Middle Son to go back to school.