About 42 times a week, I hear how unfair it is that Daughter 1 is not allowed to have a Facebook account. According to her, she's probably the very last sixth grader in a tri-state area that doesn't have a Facebook account. I usually spout off at least a dozen of her friends who also do not have a Facebook. Then she tells me they don't count.
I have, however, alleviated some of her stress at not knowing every single little intimate detail about people she may or may not know. This week, we received something in the mail and tossed it aside. Daughter 1 quickly picked it up and thumbed through it. For an hour. She flipped through this book for over an hour. She may have read it word-for-word, I don't know. What I do know is that she thought it was pretty darned cool.
"Can I keep this forever?" she asked.
"Sure?" I said, wondering why she'd want to.
"Oh wait! Will there be a new one next year?" she questioned after seriously considering the cover.
"Usually," I answered.
"And this can be mine? All mine?" she asked again.
"You betcha," I said in my best Sarah Palin Tina Fey voice. And she wrapped her little arms around me and told me how much she loved me.
"This," she whispered into my ear, "is almost as good as Facebook!" I sighed a contented sigh. "I said, 'almost,' Momma."
What was this amazing book that was almost-as-good-as-Facebook? The phonebook.
Maybe I'm sheltering her a little too much...
