Lucky

My grandson Jason is at his mom's again this weekend. But I did see him early this morning due to a text message that lit up my phone about 10 minutes after I'd gotten up. It said, "Poppa, can you bring me some clean cloths?"

Me: What kind of cloths? Dish cloths, cleaning cloths, face cloths, what?

Him: What ru talking about?

Me: I r talking about how a 7th grader should know the difference between "clothes" and "cloths."

Him: Oh. Well can you bring them?

Me: And how a 7th grader should've told me to bring this stuff last night when I drove all the way out to his mom's house to take him to his soccer game.

Him: OK I get it.

Me: And how texting shorthand is killing the English language. Even American English.

Him: OK, OK.

[a pause in the exchange; a moment of digital silence]

Me: Alright, I'll bring them.

Him: Thanks.

When I got there, it was obvious that he was the only one who was up. In the household. Or the neighborhood. Maybe on this side of the freakin' Canadian border.

Even so, I guess I should feel lucky that he still feels that he can call on me for stuff like this.

And I guess I do...

LPK
LiveJournal
2.28.2016