My kids text me from their rooms. At least the two older ones do; the ones who have phones. It’s sort of the 2010 version of a 1960s house intercom, saving steps and the obligatory yelling up and down the stairs, but I’m not sure I’m used to it yet. I have to confess that I have begun to use it too, texting them when dinner is ready or if I need to know when they have to go somewhere.
Need me to pick you up? Text me. When I need you to pick something up, I’ll text you. It’s far easier to text than just talk, and I haven’t quite figured out why. Perhaps it’s because I feel the recipient can answer in their own good time, so I am interrupting less. Or is it because I can answer texts when it’s convenient to get to them?
We are not completely integrated into the grid yet so there is still the need to communicate directly with my youngest daughter, at least until we allow her a phone of her own. She is not quite the age we have set for the others in getting their phones, but she has been asking for one. I am tempted to get her one even though her sisters will cry “foul!”, if only to have a more ready way to communicate with her after school or while she is at a friend’s house. I may be way more used to it than I care to admit.