At Least She’s Not Texting

I heard the oddest sound coming out of Jane’s room this evening. It was like nothing I had ever heard from there before. I heard her talking. And laughing. And pausing while (presumably) someone else spoke. She was talking on the phone.

I was more than a little surprised. And pleased. This may sound very strange to the generations ahead of me. You spent your time yelling to your teenager to get off the phone. You probably followed the cord around a corner into some secluded area of the house so you could pantomime your desire for them to terminate the phone call.

I’ve been dying for my daughter to talk on the phone. All she does is text. Text. Text. Text. And more Text.

Hey. Are you mad at me?
No. I’m just always in a bad mood.
Why? Is it because of me?
No. I don’t know why. I just am.
So will you talk to me in the halls now?
I guess so.
Am I still one of your best guy friends?
Yes. I only have three.

“Why don’t you tell him you are at dinner and you’ll call him later?” I asked when this important “conversation” was taking place at the restaurant during her birthday dinner.

*eye roll* “Just… Never mind… It’s his mom’s phone anyway… He borrowed it.”

So tonight, when I heard her talking, I did a little happy dance. I paused outside her door to listen. My husband happened to be coming down the hall too so stopped. He reached to open the door.

I grabbed his arm and quietly motioned for him not to. He scrunched his face in confusion. She’s talking! Talking on the phone! Can you believe it?! I mouthed and gestured my excitement.

“Are you sure?” he whispered.

I nodded emphatically, my eyes twinkling with excitement.

“Are you sure it’s not FaceTime?” he asked.

I stopped. Surely not. I reached for the door and poked my head in. She was holding her just-purchased iPod Touch out in front of her. The friend appeared to be on speaker phone. Jane motioned me out of the room. Instead, I stepped in further until I spied the moving image of one of her best friends on the screen.

I sighed. And left the room. And nodded to my husband, who grinned a self-satisfied smile. Oh, well. It’s still better than texting.

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