Outsmarted by texting teens, mom plans a cruel revenge
Are We There Yet? • LORI CLINCH
I've hit some rough spots in my parenting years. I've doctored skinned knees, jammed thumbs and stubbed toes. I lived through Barney, Power Rangers, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and sacrificed my bath towels for Batman capes as I watched the children launch off the chairs and swing through the kitchen on a makeshift rope.

Although the kids saw it as more of a punishment than a good deed, I even learned to dance the Macarena in an attempt to fit in at their birthday parties.

But recently I turned around and realized that my kids are all but grown up. They've replaced "Rugrats" with the "Fresh Prince of Bel-Air" and Batman with ESPN. Dinosaurs lost out to sporting goods, and I am no longer impaling myself on Lego towers, but tripping over footballs and rolling with the punches as I ski across the top of basketballs and oftentimes land in a catcher's mitt. Then there are the electronics. Laptops, Zunes, iPods and for the love of technology, we can't leave the house without at least one PlayStation Portable.

Just about the time that we thought we'd seen it all, lost some of it and broke most of it, the cell phones entered the picture.

I was there when the kids made their first plea for that little device. I listened to the spiels, watched as they performed their demonstrations and even choked up a bit with their dramatic endings titled, "What's it gonna take to put me into a cell phone today?"

They were clever, I'll give them that.

At first the cell phones were fine and jim-dandy. I could use them to call my young men home, summon them to run an errand or two, and when need be, ask them to pick up a gallon of milk.

Then something else started happening, something that interfered with our family unit, interrupted our serenity and was downright intrusive.

That's right, it's the biggest interloper since ESPN Sports Center — text messaging.

These children, who used to sit at my knee and hang on to my every word, are all of a sudden pretending to be giving their loving mother full attention while they run two thumbs across their cell phone pads like it's their job.

Why, it's nothing short of irritating.

Take, for instance, a recent evening when all seemed right at the Clinch abode. The pumpkins were smiling, the breeze was calm and all immediate members of the Clinch family were actually home in time for an autumn feast.

As I called my friends and bragged about the wonderful evening that we were about to have, I never dreamed I'd be eating crow.

When we sat down for the first real dinner that we had together in months, I took a look at my children and smiled at them lovingly.

After we all bowed our heads and said a prayer of thanks, most of the boys dug in. Lawrence acted as if he'd not eaten in a week, and although Little Charlie was holding a football in his left hand, he was able to pile on mashed potatoes with his right.

Even though the food was disappearing rapidly, Vernon sat still and kept his head bowed. Thinking that perhaps he was still praying, I clutched my chest and choked up with emotion. As my eyes welled with tears, I noticed that Huey had also bowed his head and appeared to be joining his brother in prayer.

Just as I was about to get my husband's attention so that he, too, could feel pride for our boys' behavior, I noticed that the kids' thumbs were rapidly moving, and that's when I called it. "Are you people text-messaging at the dinner table?"

"Vernon text-messaged me first!"

"I did not; I was answering your text from earlier today!"

"Well, at least I didn't send one from the kitchen table."

"Well, you're the one who responded and got us caught!"

I'm still trying to figure out the perfect punishment for text-messaging at inappropriate times. Do you think that my Macarena dance would be enough?

Lori Clinch is the mother of four sons and the author of the book "Are We There Yet?" You can reach her at www.loriclinch. com.