Teen Text

I had this fantasy about my trip down to SoCal with Chloé: it would be a wonderful mother-daughter bonding time, we'd get to just be girls and hang out, she'd love me more and decide that I'm still fun...

What I didn't realize is that I'd be the third wheel in her relationship with her cell phone: talk about true love! In the car, in the bathroom, on the sidewalk, in line, at the dinner table, and -- unbelievably -- in the closet at the hotel! I've tried to teach Chloé to practice safe text, but she was even doing it in the crosswalks, holding onto my arm like I was a guide dog for the blind.

I actually had to text her when she was sitting right next to me at the Rose Bowl, just to get her attention. When I took Chloé's phone away from her a couple of weeks ago, she started having severe withdrawal symptoms, first writhing and moaning on the floor, then breaking out in a sweat, finally slumping listlessly in a corner, unresponsive. On our trip, I simply gave up.

Maybe I'm just jealous. What about that technology is better than interacting with a human being? Instant gratification, perhaps, though it can't give her a hug, or spending money, or keys to the car... I don't know, but next time I get my hands on that phone, I'm going to give it a cold shower.