Last week, on the way home from school, my oldest started yet another round of the game I’ve come to view with both humor and dread — I like to call it “Mom, how old were you when . . .” (Can you see why the mere title is enough to strike fear into the souls of parents everywhere?)
The item in question this time around was none other than the elusive cell phone, although you could insert almost any topic of tween relevance (if that concept doesn’t make your head explode) in it’s place. The “when can I” topics can range from the expected (ear piercing) to the hilarious (drinking coffee) to the downright terrifying (dating!) and the conversations typically go something like this one did:
Hanna: So mom, when can I (insert subject for today . . .) get a cell phone.
Me: When it’s either necessary or you can pay for it yourself — and by IT, I mean the phone bill — whichever comes first.
Hanna: There are some kids in my class with a cell phone.
Me: That’s nice. (note: I happen to know there is ONE and considering she is 8 and has an IPhone, I’m fairly confident we hold vastly differing parenting viewpoints.)
Hanna: I wish I could have one now.
*pause*
Hanna: Mom, how old were you when YOU first got a cell phone?
Me: (smug smile) When I got married.
*silence . . . & tumbleweed*
Hanna: Oh.
One day when I feel guilty I might tell her it’s because we didn’t actually have cell phones back then “when I was her age,” possibly followed by a story about walking to school barefoot in the snow — but we’ll see.
I love it!