How Texting Can Make Your Kids Look Like Perverts

Last week my mother graciously came to our house to watch the kids while my husband and I went to southern Florida to chill out and get away from the grind.  Well, actually my husband had to work and I went along just to order room service because that’s my favorite thing to do in the world.

Why yes, I have been told that I need to get a life.  Huh.

My mom and kids are avid texters.  And by “avid” I mean that they text regularly.  I don’t because of problems I have with my thumbs not being good spellers and the fact that I feel like texting makes me look like a jerk, like I think I’m more important than you.  Which is kind of how I feel sometimes when I see people texting.

The following is a conversation I found on my daughter’s iPod, which has a texting app that allows texting but no phone capabilities, which is genius because hello? no child’s cell phone bill to pay.  I'm all about not spending money on my kids except that which is absolutely necessary.

Anyway,  I’m not sure what was going on but my son infiltrated the conversation and made it a little pervy.  I thought it was hilarious, evidently because I am now sharing it with you fine people :

My daughter: Hi Grammy

Grammy: Hi.  Come downstairs and clean up the mess on the table you made

[This was the first clue to me that my mother had nothing to do with this part of the conversation, because when my mom comes to take care of the kids, she leaves my house a disaster area.  Ha ha ha just kidding, Mom.  Please come and watch my kids again.]

My daughter: Hi.  What mess I love you

Grammy: Come downstairs and clean up the mess you made

My daughter: What mess

Grammy: In the basement 

Grammy [realizing what’s going on]: That was your brother not me

My daughter: I love you Grammy.  [series of emoticon hearts]

Grammy: I love u too

My daughter: Right I’m a hot dog.  Come eat me!!!!!!! I’m a hot dog.  I dance

Grammy: A dancing hot dog????

My daughter: I’m so yummy come and eat me!!!!  Just a hot dog

Grammy [now weary of the shenanigans, and likely figuring out exactly how many hours she has left with these two clowns and pouring herself another glass of wine]: Leave us alone.