My son taught me how to IM tonight.
Of course, in reality, my niece taught me how to IM a long time ago. She was kind and didn’t laugh too much at my ignorance of short cuts, smiley faces and general etiquette around IM’ing.
Tonight was Ben’s turn to teach his mom. He had learned from his friend on Saturday.
Mind you, I was in my office and he was about six feet away from me at the family computer in the back room.
☺ im out of the tub
I see that.
[friend’s IM address] was not on
is that [friend]?
yo mom, YES!
yo, ben OKAY
i will send u slangs 4 IMing
slangs for IMing?
okay=ok or k
for or four=4
cool. got it
>:o mom u r so out of date
hey, I’m at least IMing…
>:o back at ya
i:’( boo hoo!
:-D u r so :-[
At this point, I’m done. Yes, I know what all the symbols mean. And I’m done. He’s a few feet away, should be brushing his teeth and getting ready to read. Not IM’s but a book. He’s giggling and typing away when I am standing behind him.
No, go do your reading NOW. I’m not amused.
Okay, okay, he said, exiting the program.
In a few years, I’m going to be begging for an IM or two. Right now, he’s still an eleven-year-old boy. Mind you, he wants to be twenty-six but… he’s not. He still falls fast asleep at 8:32pm after being tucked in at 8:30pm.
And practices kissing on the bathroom mirror.
He still- when no one and I mean no one is around- crawls into my lap to be held.
My oldest child, he will always be teaching me things. How to IM. When to point out the lip smudges on the bathroom mirror and when to wash the rolled up socks without question.
Most importantly? How to parent an eleven-year-old boy.