Getting a phone call in the middle of the night is a parent’s nightmare.

My oldest daughter is a world traveler.  She was a foreign exchange student in Belgium a couple of years ago and met other kids her age from all over the world.  She and several of her international friends decided two years ago to reunite during the 2001 Christmas holidays.  In Australia.

Australia is a long, long way away.  A plane ticket is outrageous, and that’s pretty much the only way to get there unless of course you want to take a slow boat that may or may not ever get there. 

For two years she has been saving her money.  She worked during Christmas break last year and had two jobs during the summer, and finally bought the cherished ticket.  Did you know you can’t buy a one-way ticket to Australia?  They don’t want anyone coming to visit and liking it so much they decide to stay. 

So at least I wasn’t worried that she would have so much fun that she wouldn’t ever come home.

I took her to the airport, and wistfully watched my daughter fly out of my life … again.  It wasn’t as hard this time, probably because I knew it was for a month instead of a year. 

Part of me wanted to jump on the plane and go on this Great Adventure with her.  Couldn’t you just picture the friends’ faces when they saw Christi getting off the plane with dear ol’ Mom in tow?  Okay, so I wouldn’t do that to her.

She promised to call as soon as she arrived there.  It was to be a grueling 26 hours traveling time, with three layovers.

She didn’t call at 8:00 p.m., the time she should have gotten there by my calculations.  By 11:00 p.m. my stomach was in a little knot.  I kept telling myself that it probably meant she was stuck in an airport somewhere … like in the Phillipines or something.

At 1:30 a.m., the phone rang, and the knot lurched up to my throat.  I dove across the room and grabbed the handset, ready to hear her voice.

The male voice on the other end asked, in a heavy Australian accent, “Is this Mrs. Sarah Higgins, mother of Christina Clapp?”

The knot had turned into a vice, squeezing tightly around my neck.  I could barely reply, “Yes.”

He identified himself as a member of the Australian Consulate and explained that Christi had violated Rule 53a of the … something or another.  My ears stopped listening and my mind was racing through what could have happened.  Was her visa not in order?  What could it be?!

The clutch on my throat squeezed tighter, but I managed to get out, “What is Rule 53a?”

“That would be the height requirement,” he replied.

Suddenly there was a burst of laughter in the background, and it dawned on me that this was all a big joke.  Christi got on the phone and apologized.  Her friend had dialed the phone for her and had talked her into letting him pull my leg.

She hadn’t called earlier because when she had arrived, she was exhausted.  She went straight to take a short nap, intending to call me when she woke up.  Except the nap lasted six hours.

“That’s okay,” I told her.  “Someday you too will have children.  They will kid you, torture you, and give you massive heart attacks.

“Oh, and did I tell you next time you go on a trip I’m coming with you?”

There was silence.