Cheyenne tells me I am not the cell phone police. Her initial argument forcefully made the point that I was an offender myself right up to a couple of weeks ago. I tried telling her that having seen the light I felt a moral obligation to share it with others…she was not impressed.
She told me, "Don’t be a freak!"
I told her that one is not a freak just because one stands up for something they believe in (even if they were a sinner in the fairly recent past). She gave me the look (the look that says -do you really think I am foolish enough to buy what you just said?).
She reiterated her disdain from a different attack point. She said, "If you are a freak and tell everyone not to talk on their phone in the car, people will say when they see me – that is the freak’s daughter." Oh sure…the old "don’t embarrass me" approach. I thought that was one of my job duties as a parent…embarrassing my offspring…did she really think that was going to work?
Today when we were out and I saw folks on their phone at a stop light I told Cheyenne to roll down the window so that I could tell them the risks involved in talking on the phone – she was horrified. Her eyes got as big as saucers and I think she stopped taking in air for a good minute each time. Luckily the light would turn green, traffic would start moving and Cheyenne would breathe. I have to say, after seeing the effect of this the first time I enjoyed it so much that I was looking forward to red lights and cell phone talkers the entire way home.
What the heck? If I am going to be labeled a freak I want to earn my keep…indeed, why even do it half way…why not be a super freak? I can hear Rick James singing about me now.
No, I wouldn’t have really counseled folks at stop lights on the risks of cell phone usage behind the wheel, but the super freak’s daughter didn’t know that.
Day two hundred and seventy-eight of the new forty – obla di obla da