My father is almost eighty-one. My mother is……….well, she’ll kill me if I type a number over fifty. Her birthday was around Father’s Day. They ganged up on us with one request:
an iPad mini.
“Because I want to be able to FaceTime your cousin Lori and see her baby. And your daddy wants to video call you ten times a day.”
I’m not sure I want video calls from either parent. I’ve been hearing blush-worthy tales of their escapades since my brother moved in with them.
My brother: “Can I put a lock on my bedroom door?”
My mother: “Why ever would you want to do that?”
My brother: “Because if Dad barges in butt-nekkid one more time and stands there and talks to me while he scratches himself, I’m gonna lose it.”
Apparently, my parents are nudists at home.
WHICH IS WHY I CRINGE
OVER THE WHOLE FACETIME THING.
Let’s take bets, Dear Reader. How will my parents first experience Naked FaceTime? Will Mom call my husband while she’s in the bathtub, thinking she’s calling one of her sisters? (That’s what she’ll claim as she flashes her boobs and laughs. Just wait.)
Or will Dad give me a wiener shot as he pees in the backyard? I mean KILLS TERMITES. Because OF COURSE everyone knows urine kills termites.
If I explain what’s captured and recorded online these days, it won’t matter. Mom won her gym’s monthly weight lifting title in her age bracket. She WANTS everybody at the NSA to see how hot she is.
Dad still doesn’t understand how video travels the internet, but that won’t stop his tingly fingers from pressing the green-and-white button a hundred times a day. He thinks everyone should witness his epic bowel movements.