February 10, 2018
I was looking in disgust at my cast-iron skillet, thinking,
“What the heck is wrong with this thing?” My mom would know what to do, but I
can’t call her. I used to call her to get help with crossword clues, or to help
figure out what was wrong with the baby, or other general life-stuff. But now I
can’t.
So I said, “I’ll just have to look it up on the internet.”
And then I had a chilling thought:
My kid won’t need to call me. All the stuff that people used
to call their parents about is now available online. If I’m lucky we’ll talk to
each other just for the heck of it, but thanks to the internet, centuries of
tradition—Can’t figure it out? Ask Mom—is in danger of going the way of the
dodo.
Guess there’s only one thing to do to insure regular
communication with The Kid once she leaves home:
I’ll just have to move next door.
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