Wilson Post Blogs
By BECKY ANDREWS, Wilson Living Magazine
Have we met? Perhaps you’ve heard of me. I’m the meanest mom in the world. At least that’s what my 11-year-old has been calling me lately. Amazing how this new nickname came so soon after Christmas.
I guess the first time I heard that little term of endearment from him was a year ago when I refused to even discuss getting him a cell phone.
“I’m the only one on the basketball team that doesn’t have one! What if there’s an emergency?”
“Borrow one from a teammate. If they all have one, you’ll be OK.”
He had just turned 10 and in his lifetime had not spoken more than 50 words on the telephone so you can imagine my apprehension at giving my decade old child a phone.
I stood my ground. One day he tried to wear me down by asking over and over “if not now, when can I get my own phone?” By the end of the day, I had enough. So I gave him an answer. “You can get your first cell phone when I got mine… when you’re 22!”
Not long after that a parent of one of his friends tried to plead his case by saying, “You don’t want him to be the only one not to have one. Just get the child a phone. He needs it.”
This did the opposite of what it was intended to. I not only stood my ground, I anchored that stance in concrete. There’s a long list of reasons why I wasn’t giving in:
1-Our kids have too much these days leaving nothing to look forward to.
2-He would lose it
4-The texting thing scares me
5-He’s not ready
6-I’m not ready
7-I don’t need a reason.
While my husband supported the decision, he thought maybe 22-years-old was too long to wait. A compromise was reached and we told our blue eyed little boy he would get his phone at 13.
Not long after I went to eat lunch with my 7-year-old. A little boy at his table told me his big brother has a cell phone. His “big” brother is in third grade. I looked at Jackson and said, “Do not tell your brother.
I don’t have the energy for battle today.” He looked at me and agreed. That’s the day I realized my youngest child would not be someone to trust with military secrets or my correct weight. In short, that little pisher sings like a canary if he hears the words, “Don’t tell.”
Before they could buckle their seatbelts, Jackson shouted, “I know a third grader who has a cell phone and you don’t!” Before I could reprimand him for squealing he stuck his finger up and said, “I promise not to tell him you told me not to tell him.” And with that my youngest sealed his fate as being the only senior in high school without a cell phone.