In our house, it had been an unwritten but often discussed presumption that when my son started middle school he would get his first mobile phone. Assuming, that is, that he had demonstrated a certain level of maturity and responsibility.
I anguished over this decision to the point of insanity, like I do with every.single.decision. regarding my kids. One minute I was reading articles about the dangers of teenagers and social media, the next minute envisioning a natural disaster occurring at middle school with his survival solely contingent on calling me from his cell phone.
But here is the real reason I decided it was time. I know my son. He was ready.
I was expecting some level of emotion around this event but what I wasn’t expecting, as I signed the contract and was given his new number, was the future flashing before my eyes. While I looked at those 10 digits, it struck me that this number, most likely, will be a part of him for the rest of his life. When I was growing up (back when dinosaurs roamed) we had one house phone which was connected to the wall with an actual chord. It had a number assigned to it and when you moved, well, you started over with a new number. There were no programmed contact lists. When you wanted to chat with a friend you physically “dialed” their number which you had committed to memory.
This new number of his will most likely see him through many stages of life. In the next few years how many LOL, XOXO, or OMG’s will he receive? How many times will I dial these numbers when he is in college and become paralyzed with worry when he doesn’t answer…my “mom” brain assuming that he is in a ditch, drunk, and only wearing a toga. I’m sure there will be break-up calls, make-up calls, and Lord help me, booty calls.
Will this be the number that’s called to tell him he’s about to be a dad, or even a grandad.
The Verizon guy probably thought I had stroked out as I sat there glassy eyed imagining the next 50 years. Oh, don’t mind me, I just have an important number to memorize.
jedimommy 