Life with Teenagers

Posts Tagged ‘virtual family time


with 3 comments

I just texted my son from my bed at 7am. It went like this. “Hey I’m trying this foolishness.” And instantly, to the tune of one very annoying sound bite from a “Panic in the Disco” song that goes like, OOOOOOOH well imagine… as Im pacing…, my winged text is here. Here it is flying around on my cell phone screen. I open the envelope and it reads: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA  

I try again, painfully scrolling through the letters one at a time to form a tiny little word with my thumb. And while I’m doing this from the comfort of my bed, here comes “Panic in the Disco” yet again. OOOOOOOH well imagine… as Im pacing… Another little envelope with wings dances across my cellphone screen. My son, from the TV room, has expertly and instantly texted me again. It reads,  “Do u mean texting?” 

Now I’m sweating. I have to finish my sentence before noon. My answer reads. Yes (and then a space because I can’t find the comma) I cant find any punctuation. And can I just mention how long it took me to type the word punctuation? I’m a Web professional. I work with young hipsters on such marvels as UX interfaces and wireframes and I sit in meetings where we discuss CSS and the latest CMS. But I just can’t do this texting thing. It’s maddening. OOOOOOOH well imagine… as Im pacing… My son’s next text reads, “It’s ok, where are you?”

It should be obvious where I am on a Saturday morning at 7am when he has several teenage boys strewn across the floor of the TV room right now still in their jeans from last night’s sleepover. But one’s whereabouts are truly irrelevant in the brave new teenage world of text messaging and virtual family time. I concentrate fully and whip out a three word instant reply, “I’m in bed.” OOOOOOOH well imagine…as Im pacing…

And the next text back reads, “O haha, can we have breakfast?” 

That sums it up. I’m restored. Can we have breakfast? Now that I can do. I whip the cellphone on the bed, put on my flannel pajamas, and walk seven steps to the door of the TV room and peek my head in. My son is sitting on the overstuffed chair with the TV blaring and a cellphone in his hands in the text keyboard mode, headphones on, feet on the table, three other sleepy boys of all sizes lounging on every surface. He grins at me.  “How about cinnamon buns?” I ask in a real voice looking at my real son. Yep. There he is. He’s still a kid, but just barely. He’s still mine. I still have another morning. 

Cinnamon rolls coming right up.


Written by kmguay

August 21, 2009 at 6:59 pm

Posted in technology

Tagged with , ,