#7 has a stomach virus and was up quite a lot in the middle of the night... doing what, um, stomach/intestinal viruses (viri?) make you do.
Poor kid. He seems a little better today -- at least the ginger ale is staying down.
But that's not really what this post is about. It's about text messaging. Yep, I'm starting this post with a stomach virus and ending up with text messaging. Are you having trouble following me?
I'm not surprised.
I was up in the middle of the night, too, and I'm not making much sense to myself this morning.
But what made me laugh today is the fact that #7 and I text message each other when we're both in the house or building. Even in the same room sometimes!
This morning we let #7 sleep in quite a long time, given the night he'd had and not being sure how he would be feeling when he woke up. Tim and I had breakfast and then the message alert sounded on my cell phone. It was from #7, upstairs in his bedroom. "Where r u guys?" it said.
"In the kitchen. How r u feeling?" was my reply.
And then we heard him clumping down the stairs to the main floor.
I suppose I should think it's sad what the world is coming to, but actually I think it is funny as all get out.
Text messaging has saved me a lot of time and effort as a parent, when you come right down to it. No more marching up and downs stairs or wandering from room to room in an effort to find someone. No more screaming someone's name at the top of my lungs when my search fails.
For example: on Sunday mornings, Tim and I arrive at church pretty early because we have responsibilities to see to before the service starts. Of course #7 is with us, hanging around with his friends as they trickle in before worship. Our requirement for #7 is that he has to be in the sanctuary for worship -- even if the other kids don't come in (sadly, that happens with some of the older teens).
Sometimes I have to text message him a reminder from behind the keyboard (before I start playing, of course -- I'm not quite THAT talented). Beats having to get out from behind the keyboard and go fetch him myself, or, worse yet, make grotesque, charade-like motions to his dad to get HIM to go and fetch #7.
By the way, the stock answer to my text reminder that worship is starting is a possibly withering "I know."
I don't care.
I like text messaging my kid.
Happy Saturday! I've got mega cleaning and laundry to do today.