I got Aug’s cell phone working two days ago and gave it him. Tonight, before dinner, we were in the study together. He was playing Spore and I was writing. His cell phone rang; it was plugged in downstairs for recharging. He said, “I’ll get it later, probably my mom.” Who else, I thought, if it isn’t me it has got to be his mom.
Later, while we made dinner together – a new ritual for the new year (measuring years on the Celtic calendar) – he checked his messages.
“Who was it,” I asked.
“A friend,” he said.
“Oh? Who?” I started wondering which of his rough-neck friends had a cell phone. Frank? Jaffrey? Julian?
Uma? Who the heck is Uma?
“Who is Uma?”
“A girl from the play.” A girl from the play? What the what?
“Are you going to call her back?”
“No. She is probably just returning my call.”
“You called Uma?” Who the heck is Uma? Who the heck is this kid talking to me? Cell phone? Calling Uma?
“How did you get her phone number?”
“I asked her.” Wow. One public performance and my son is asking a girl for her phone number. Totally cute.
“Will you call her later,” I asked.
“Maybe,” he said, and I decided to stop prying and start cooking. Wow. Two days with the cell phone.