My son was huddled over the glow of his phone, chuckling madly. PARENTAL RED ALERT! Apparently an anonymous admirer was texting him.
It was impossible for me not to be immediately suspicious and picture some really hairy 40-year-old dude in a pink tutu on other side of the text thread, trying to get at my son or rip him off somehow.
I went into a speech about not giving up any personal info but ran out of steam when the sound of my voice echoing in the vastness of his disinterest became deafening. He put my lecture in its grave with a “Yeah yeah yeah, this is not my first rodeo.” Which is from an Austin Powers film, buuuuuut still made no sense to me and was more worrying than reassuring. What does that MEAN!?!
Anyways, rather than lay down the law, consequently making him try to continue in secret, I joined in as the cool chaperone at the party.
I saw it was innocent once I was brought up to speed. It was better than that, it was hilarious. Allegedly there was a slumber party of girls on the other side of the unidentified number. They knew my son, and he was craftily trying to determine who they were and what school they went to.
It was pretty awful to witness English being fed through a tree chipper-shredder, and after one text, “Me is Jade” I shook my head and said, “Tell her you don’t believe she goes to ANY school. Ever.”
After the thread trailed off, I told him again to be careful, and I wasn’t worried for a while. And then a couple of days ago I came across the story of a random kid and his encounter with Mr. Taco…
See for yourself. This is their annotated text thread:
It’s pretty hilarious. It’s also pretty scary. Thank goodness Mr. Taco uses his powers for awesome and not evil. Still, I’m going to have a longer talk with my son.
For help and tips on being less dumb on the subject of identity safegaurds go Like Lifelock on Facebook.
Disclosure: The rockstars at LifeLock (a leader in identity theft protection) were good enough to sponsor this post, but I wrote it all by myself. This is all me, baby. As evidenced by the bad grammar and typos it probably contains. They can’t be held responsible for my thoughts, bad writing or inability to stay within the lines of children’s coloring place-mats at restaurants.