When I started blogging a few weeks ago, my first post was about keys - how carrying keys means responsibilities, obligations and work. I wrote, "my kids don't carry keys. They leave the house with nothing in their pockets. That's freedom."
Well, scratch that.
Isaiah got a cellphone this weekend. On the face of it, it's no big deal. Like every other kid, he's no stranger to electronics. He already has an Ipod, a camera, a Wii and a computer. Plus, this isn't a toy. Starting 6th grade in a few days means that we'll no longer walk him to school. He'll be traveling via subway and needs to be able reach us; we need to keep track of him, too.
But to him, it's more important than that. Isaiah has his own number now. He can be contacted by his friends privately, without us or even his brother in between. Almost instantly, he was like an addict. The flurry of text messages began. In an hour, he was shielding the screen like a kid passing notes in school, drifting off to tap out a missive or two. Suddenly, privacy is a part of our relationship; secrets finally exist.
I actually love it. If independence marks the border, then another bridge to adolescence has just been crossed. (The irony is that it happened in an AT&T store.) As parents, we know that our job is to get our kids ready to handle the world on their own. So things like these are great. I love watching the guy connect with his friends, and how he bites into the opportunity to boot.
But it's also bittersweet. As Isaiah's pockets fill with things like these (he's getting housekeys this week too), I'm happy to see him becoming independent but I'm sad to see his freedom, the freedom of childhood, slip away.
Because as adults, we also know that the things we carry in our pockets each come with responsibilities. No matter how small they are, they're still much heavier than the things we've left behind.
Isaiah proudly tests out his new phone in the store. His first call was to his mother, four feet away.
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