Funny Guy Friday... Daddy's Little Girl is growing up...

    My little girl is growing up and I don't like it. For years she has been begging us to let her go to Houston so she can visit her cousin. This is the same cousin that she texts every minute of every day. They never talk but they have constant contact with texting, which is something that I just do not get.
    Every time I use texting to communicate with someone, I never know how to end it. Typically, I get a text asking me a question, but it was asked an hour ago, so I never know if I should respond or not. I just think that it is faster and more efficient to call.
    This was scientifically proven last summer in my parents' living room. We were all sitting around having this debate when we decided to resolve the issue once and for all. We created a fake scenario where we had to convey to someone at the grocery store that we needed milk. I called my sister at the same time Grace texted her cousin. I was able to tell my sister that we needed milk before Grace could text that same information. Sort of old school technology v. new school technology in a John Henry v. the steam hammer kind of way---only after I crushed her, I did not die with a hammer/cell phone in my hand.
    Anyway, we let her fly to Houston but not exactly by herself. She traveled with my mother. Neither Grace nor my mom are what you would call worldly travelers so it was kind of the blind leading the blind through the airport---and they had to switch planes in North Carolina. You would have thought that changing planes was as complicated as splitting the atom. I should point out that my mother is a worrier who tends to overreact. I am a worrier that tends to overreact. And surprise, surprise, Grace is a worrier who tends to overreact. Worrying and overreacting are family traits---it is who we are.
   I was very relieved when Grace texted that they had made it to Houston. I texted back that I was glad to see that Mutt and Jeff made it all the way to Houston. This prompted Grace to text back, Uncle Jeff did not come---I don't get it. I called her to explain, which is what I should have done in the first place.
   The trip to Houston is not the only sign that our baby girl is growing up. She is now asking when I am going to let her drive. She will turn fifteen in August so my response is always, "When you turn sixteen." She has informed me that she can get her learner's permit at fifteen and nine months, but she does not want to wait. This was confusing to me, so I had to ask what she expected---she wants to start driving around the neighborhood now, so that she will know how to drive when she gets her license. Sure, no problem, what could possibly go wrong with her driving in a neighborhood full of kids? I'm no lawyer, but I wondered if this were legal. Oh, wait a minute! I am a lawyer, and it turns out that this is, in fact, illegal. But her request makes perfect sense because she always wants whatever she wants befores she actually needs to have it.
    For instance, when she was in 6th grade, she had to have a cell phone to keep "in case of an emergency." We told her no for three years, but then relented when she started high school, as she began to stay after school.
    So far, the only emergency that has come up is that her jeans ripped and she had to text her cousin in Houston. I suppose that qualifies as an emergency to a fourteen-year-old.
    She also had have a laptop to keep up with school, yet I have never seen her actually use her laptop, and more often than not, she "thought that she sent an assignment to her teacher that never actually got to her teacher" because of that laptop. The result was that I found myself patiently waiting for her to get off of my laptop.
    Her latest "have to have" is a Facebook Page.
    My opinion about Facebook is that it is the devil's playground. People write things to the general public that they would never say in mixed company---as if writing something vulgar gives you some cover (Can you say Anthony Wiener?). She needs it because this is how her friends keep up with each other and "invite people to stuff." She can't actually point out what she has missed as a result of not having a Facebook page, but she is sure that she has missed something.
    Anyway, last night, as she and I were driving home, I told her I would consider her request if she could name the band singing the song that was currently on the radio. You see, I have found that this method of decision-making is the best way to avoid making major purchases for my kids. To my shock and horror she correctly named The Cars. I reminded her that I said that I would consider it........but if she could name the next song I may say yes. Again she knew it was The Police. Again I reminded her that I said I may say yes.......but if she got one more, the answer was a probable yes. Who knew she had even heard of Santana? She cried out with glee that she is going to list The Cars, The Police and Santana as her favorite bands on her Facebook page. Not so fast, I said may say yes----plus, mom has veto power.
    Back to the license issue. My girl did not help her cause this past weekend when she mentioned that I should drive faster because she wanted to get back to the hotel where we were staying. Cheryl gently reminded Grace that those big red octogon-shaped objects were called STOP signs and even if I did decide to fly through this 25 mph zone, I would have to stop every other block. Grace correctly observed that nobody was around to catch me speeding and there were no other cars to stop for-----so please hurry it up. She actually argued that if there are no cars around, you don't really have to stop.
    I don't care how old she is, or how old she thinks she is, I just decided to set the record straight. I do not care if Grace can name The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Aerosmith and The Eagles----she is not getting an opportunity to drive through our neighborhood anytime soon. Just to make sure that she is aware of my decision, I will text her, or better yet, I will give her a call---it is way more efficient.