Steven Easton

Social Media

Tuesday, May 7

Both Ava and I are battling a cold or bad allergies(I hate Iowa right now), but staying home is not an option over the next couple of days for me because we started presentations today in class, and it's not fair to my kids if I say that they have to be prepared for a presentation, and then I'm not there. There's always the option of recording it, but that always has some sort of hiccup, so it's just easier if I'm there, which also means poor Ava also had to fight through today, too. I told her if she's still feeling crappy later in the week, I'd let her stay home, but she does not have a fever.

On the way home from work, I ran to the store because I wanted to get stuff for chicken noodle soup. When I got home, Ava was asleep on the couch and Friends was playing in the background. I threw a blanket over her because she had her arms wrapped around herself tightly as if she was trying to get warm. She was laying on half the remote, so I couldn't turn off the TV. 

While I was making chicken noodle soup, I hoped that Ava wouldn't hate me for waking her up for dinner, but I knew she wouldn't sleep tonight if I didn't wake her up eventually. When dinner was ready, I came back into the living room and loudly projected, "Good morning, sunshine!"

Slowly, her eyes opened as she looked at me, and then the TV, and then back at me, groaning. "What time is it?"

Checking my watch, I looked down. "It is 6:37."

Throwing off her blankets, she jumped up, grabbing my wrist. "Why didn't you wake me up?" 

"Where are you going?" 

"School!"

My heart sunk. Missing her band concert would traumatize and embarrass her for the rest of the school year. They'd probably call DHS on me for not being able to remember the right night. "I thought your band concert was Thursday."

Squinting, she tilted her head. "Wait. What day is it today?"

"Tuesday..." 

"Yesterday was Tuesday," she informed me.

"Um, no, yesterday was Monday. It's 6:37 in the evening on Tuesday. It's time for dinner."

Rubbing her eyes, she sniffed back a wad of snot. "You told me that it's morning."

"It clearly felt like morning to you."

Rolling her eyes, she sighed. "I feel like crap."

"Me, too."

"You sound stuffy." 

"So do you." I started into the kitchen, and she followed me. "Do you want milk tonight, or would you rather have water because it will help you wash out all that mucus?" 

"Ewww, you're gross." 

Her face she made amused me. "Well, it's true. What sounds good?"

"Milk."

"Okay." 

As I poured her milk, she scooted into her seat on the bench. Our table has an L-shaped bench as it's in the corner of our kitchen.

"Did you make this soup?" 

"Yes, ma'am. It's like Aunt Heather's." 

Lately, we've been praying before eating, and tonight, I had her say the prayer. 

"Dear God, thank you for sleep and for it not being morning. Thank you for food. Please help Steven and I feel better because I want to go to school tomorrow to eat ice cream in math. In Your Name, amen."

"Thank you for praying for me. That is sweet of you." 

She blew on her spoon in no hurry, nodding.

After I tried my first spoonful of my soup, I asked, "Why do you get ice cream in math tomorrow?"

"Because I completed all the math problems in five minutes and got them all right. I was the only girl who did it."

"You go, girl!" 

"All those multiplication and division triangles paid off."

"Told you."

"Can I have my phone back now?"

"Hm, let me think about that." I took a sip of water. "No. You know what you did was wrong, so you can pay the consequences."

"All my other friends' parents let them have it."

"That's not true. I know that Kimberly's parents don't let her go on social media. Whitney doesn't either." (You may remember that Whitney was the one who wanted to date me, but I wasn't all about it... We don't talk a whole lot anymore, especially now that she knows that I'm with Morgan.)  

"A lot of them do. Paisley's parents let her."

"Okay, so...?" I raised my eyebrows, waiting for her point.

"Why are you so strict?"

"Why do you think?"

"Because you don't want me to talk to strangers, and I don't. Why don't you trust me?"

"Ava, you're 11 years old. Why do you need to be on social media?"

"Because I want to talk to my friends on it!"

"Well, give them your phone number."

"Some of them don't text."

"Oh, well. Then talk to them in person."

"You don't understand," she informed me.

"Actually, Ava, I do understand because I've been on almost all forms of social media, and I know the effects it has on people. When you have it on your phone, that's all you think about. You worry about who is liking your posts, and when people don't like your posts, you wonder why. You don't need this in your life. It's just a distraction. Believe me, I do know."

Glaring, she folded her arms. "You don't care about the fact I can't talk to my friends. I want my phone back."

"You can talk to them over the summer when you have your phone back. Since you have an iPhone, you have iMessage, which most people who don't have an actual phone have anyway, so problem solved. You just have to be patient."

"I hate you."

"That's also not true," I stated with my teacher tone, "so you need to apologize, or I will ground you from Netflix."

Knowing I wasn't kidding, she surrendered. "Okay, fine, I'm sorry, but--"

"Nope. Stop. I'm not changing my mind."