If someone looked at my wife’s texts to me, they could easily look like a bunch of messages to a personal assistant. Knowing that these were back-and-forths between husband and wife, someone might say, “Yeeeeeah. There’s a loveless marriage, right there!” But it’s not loveless!!! It’s child-FULL. We’re parents. Sometimes parenthood has to roll up its sleeves and knock the prancing stuffed animal of love out of the way to get the job of being a family done. And by “sometimes” I’m pretty much talking about once or thirteence every single day.
Wife: Can you pick up some trash bags on your way home? Me: You got it.
I’m a nerd though. I love Sci-Fi. So, I’m not actually being sarcastic when I say that I kind of dig getting commands on my phone from my Darlin’ Dearest. Robots are rad! Sometimes when I’m performing one of my text-activated tasks I even move around in a jerky, animatronic fashion to really get into the role.
Wife: Frtppstable Me: ??? Wife: Sorry! The little one got ahold of my phone! Me: Wife: Can you turn down the air before you come to bed? Me: Affirmative.
I really do like it. I even ask for my text commands. We’ll be on the phone going over the plan for the day and just before my eyes fully disappear, as they roll up into the back of my head, I’ll cut in with “Hey luv, sorry! Any way you can text me all this?”
Don’t get the wrong idea, I’m no saint or slave. It’s not much that I’m asked to do. My wife runs the whole household and family, these are just occasional chances for me to help out. I’m thrilled to do them, for the most part. Sometimes not so much. That’s another perk of text-based requests, by the way. The freedom to roll your eyes, groan or mutter something unwholesome under your breath without creating a “situation.” In any case, the job gets done. Unless I forget, of course.
Wife: DON'T FORGET the bananas on the grocery list I'm about to text. Me: I won't. I mean I wlll. Me: Not forget. Me: I mean I'll get them!!!
We all know texting is out of control. All I’ve got to offer on this is a shrug and a guilty look. On more than one occasion I’ve texted Cody and Max to be quiet when they were conducting World War 3.5 upstairs in their room. Try not to judge. It works! The modern-day equivalent of banging the ceiling with a broom.
It’s not a pushpin bulletin board anymore, and it’s not refrigerator-magnet or Post-It notes, but it’s the way the world is now. And whatever anyone’s opinion is, that’s the world we have to parent in.
I even have a clear picture in my mind of a future scene, when one of the boys is older, a dad. I can see glowing text suddenly appearing on a lens over his eye just as he’s about to jump onto his hoverboard after work: “Can you pick up some diapers on the way home? [blink twice for location of nearest store]”
Wife: Try not to go to bed too late. Me: Processing request... ... ERROR! ERROR! Does not compute!
You can even TEXT pictures now!
Oh. You knew that already? Well, here are some funny pics.
It’s where all the smart Hogwarts students get their books.