Deborah Woehr

I refuse to buy cell phones for my boys. They don’t like them, anyway. My oldest son discovered text messaging on the computer some time in the last year. He uses it to his full advantage, which I don’t mind because it’s free. He’s going to be another year older next week, and we’re already discussing driving. I can already feel the white hairs taking root in my scalp.

Son: im bored
me: I’m mom.
Son: o
me: What do you want to do for your birthday?
6:23 PM Son: my real 1?
me: Yes, your real 1
Son: pizza i guess
6:24 PM me: You want to go out for pizza? Or, would you just rather eat it at home.
Son: um
idk
me: What’s idk
Son: i dont know
me: Nevermind. I figured it out.
Son: o
6:25 PM me: Well, you’re a lot of help.
Son: i wanted to have those baja chipotle fajtas but dad said to just order a “darn” pizza
6:26 PM me: We’ll get you the fajitas, if you want. Do you want to go out to eat?
6:27 PM Son: yeah i guess i dont think it will be crowded anywhere on a thursday night
me: It shouldn’t be. Okay, we’ll plan on going to Baja then.
Son: ok
6:28 PM i meant the ones me make with the sauce but that works too
me: The ones we make with the sauce. Excuse me, I’m having a senior moment. Can you refresh my memory? Just curious.
6:29 PM Son: um
idk its in the pantry
but that probably doesnt help because theres alot of stuff in there
me: Yup.