finger snapping authority

I used to scare my daughter every time I snapped my fingers. With a tremor in her teenage voice she says, “when I was a little kid, I would jump out of my skin at the snap of death from my mom.”
I wish I had that effect on my sons. With them, I not only no longer snap my fingers, I also keep my mouth shut.
When my first son went to college on a scholarship, I was very aware that he had to maintain a reasonable grade point average to keep that scholarship. Too low and his scholarship would disappear.
His dad and I worried more about his keeping that scholarship than he did. He would call home and tell us about the fun he was having, the parties and how late he had stayed up. The night he had an English paper to write, he called and talked to us from the hall because his dorm room was overflowing with friends. Three hundred miles away my fingers were snapping at him to quit partying and start writing.
The only time he asked for my help, his checking account was overdrawn and he could not balance it with the bank’s statement. He prefaced his request for help, “but I don’t want you to ask any questions about any of the checks.”
I helped him balance his account. I only raised my eyebrows over a couple of checks as I smashed my fingers into silence and bit my tongue as I had done when his grades skidded shockingly close to the college, he maintained his checkbook and scholarship without my help.
He says he made it to graduation because, “I mowed lawns one summer and I knew I didn’t want to do that the rest of my life.” A month after graduation he nailed a job, announced his engagement and began a 40-hour work week.
His brother went 300 miles in the other direction to college. About the second month he actually called to ask my advice about his honors calculus. After four semesters of calculus and hearing his problem, I immediately knew how he could solve his problem, “go talk with your professor.” It wasn’t so easy to sit back when the business office had a snafu with his scholarships. I wanted to march into that office and clear it up for him. I couldn’t, so he made repeated trips to the financial aid office until the funding was released. And I so wanted to snap my fingers just once at someone in that office.
Parenting at a distance is easy compared to having a son taking classes while living at home, as I have this summer. Because I was a scared, non-traditional student, I think my son should have the textbook in his hand every minute of the day that he is not in class or working in the lab.
No matter how many times I tell myself, “He’s managed to keep his scholarship for three years without your help, he can handle one summer class,” my fingers still itch to make him jump. Thank heavens by the time you read this, the class will be over and my fingers can give it a rest or find something else to snap about.