When our youngest son was packing up his stuff to head back to Notre Dame (for his final semester before graduation! Yikes!), I saw his carry-on bag sitting on the edge of the bed in his room.
Finding Grace and Erin's Ring in there, right on top.
I have no illusions that my baby--who didn't inherit his mother's obsession for reading and who has only a few months left to matriculate at one of the most beautiful and opportunity-filled universities in the USA--will actually spend his off hours with his nose in his mommy's books. Aside from his studies, he has ROTC responsibilities that take up a good deal of his time. And he has a nice group of friends who are just as sick of books as he is by Friday afternoon, so that the last thing they're thinking is, "TGIF! Let's crack open some novels and hunker down for the weekend!" (College kids: they just don't get how great a plan that actually is!) So I'm not going to expect him to call and tell me he's finished them. But I love it that when he left home after his last Christmas vacation as a college undergrad, he had those two books close at hand for his flight out to Indiana.
I love his good intentions.
To put it quite simply: I love that boy.