We bought Chickadee a new cell phone. (And by “bought” you understand I mean “picked her out a new purple one that was free on our plan.”) It was not long after she began texting more often that her phone starting having issues, so we figured we’d go ahead and upgrade her before that one broke entirely.
Now she texts all day long. She texts her friends. She texts me from the next room. She texts Otto the second he steps outside to ask what he’s doing. I’m pretty sure she’s developed callouses on her thumbs.
The only advantage is that she’s talking less, so if our phones are set to vibrate, the overall noise level is actually lower.
But I think we’ve discovered that just as driving and texting do not mix, neither do sugar and texting.
Last night we went out for frozen yogurt after dinner. The drive there was perfectly pleasant, but as soon as we sat down outside with our dessert, Chickadee started texting. My phone went BINGBING!
yum! this is soooo good!
“Dude,” I said, poking her. “I AM SITTING RIGHT NEXT TO YOU. That hole in your face, the one you’re shoveling food into? It also works as a communication device.”
She insisted that no, it didn’t. Back to her phone she went. BINGBING! went Otto’s phone.
“I’m not even looking,” he said.
In the car on the way home, she texted me. BINGBING! I ignored her. She texted again. BINGBING! I looked, and the second one was asking if I’d read the first one. I texted back “Nope.” and put my phone away. Which unleashed this series:
Did you read my text?
How about now?
Pleeeeeeeeeeeease read it?
Did you read it yet?
You should check your phone.
Finally I could stand it no longer. I took out my phone.
The next text I receive, I am taking your phone away.
A chime sounded on Chickadee’s phone and she said “Yay!” Then she read the text. “Oh, no,” she said, with deeply theatrical sadness. “THIS IS TERRIBLE!”
She then texted Otto.
Without taking his eyes off the road, Otto said, “Chickadee, texting while driving is dangerous and illegal. SO I AM SURE YOU ARE NOT TEXTING ME WHILE I’M DRIVING. Also, no more texts tonight. At all.”
“Ohhhhhhh…” she whined.
All was silent for a few blessed seconds. Then there was some whispering and giggling.
And then my phone began to ring.
I turned around to peer into the backseat, and both kids cracked up. “STOP IT,” I said.
“SHHHHHHH!” Chickadee said. “Can’t you see I’m ON THE PHONE? Oh, hang on, you’re not there. I’ll have to leave you a message. HIIIII MOM! IT’S CHICKIE! Call me back when you get a chance, okay? BYYYEEEEE!”
I was still trying to stop laughing when Otto’s phone started ringing.
“Heeeeeeyyyyyy OTTO! It’s CHICKIE! Call me back later, okay? I really wanna talk to you! Okay, byyyyeeeeee!”
It turns out that Otto can drive perfectly well while rolling his eyes. I had no idea.
I figured it was all over, then, but she also left a message on our home answering machine. “Heeeeeeey GUYS! I guess you’re not HOME! It’s CHICKIE and you should totally call me back!” Except, I can’t convey in writing what this sounded like, because by this time she was trying so hard not to laugh that she was… sort of… drawing out words and sort of semi-growling…? It defies explanation. The closest I can come is by telling you that she sounded sort of like Bobcat Goldthwait, if Bobcat Goldthwait had pigtails and a purple cell phone and a marked inability to LET A JOKE GO ALREADY.
This morning I took her with me to a doctor’s appointment, and I got called back to have my blood drawn. I’d barely plopped myself into the seat when my phone went BINGBING!
I miss you.
I have created a monster.