As the parent of a teenager, I have stopped being surprised at irritating text messages from my daughter. They pretty much mirror the dialogue we share in person, in emails, and during phone calls.
Last Wednesday, Tenley was fulfilling her weekly commitment to help my mother-in-law. She had been there a little longer than her shift usually lasts, and she was ready to leave (but I was still at work). The conversation by text consisted of four variations from her of “are you on your way yet?” paired with my “not yet” responses. When I finally was prepared to leave and texted, “On my way,” I almost didn’t even check her response when I heard the little chime that indicated an incoming text. I was just over this conversation, and I fully anticipated exactly this: FINALLY! or this: It’s about time.
What I got instead was this:
This exchange occurred on a Wednesday, and it was surprisingly pleasant enough to leave me …
Wife of one, Mom of two, Friend of many. My pronouns are she/her/hers.