i became the holder of phones

I took my newly turned 11-year-old daughter Scarlett and her friend to Busch Gardens the other night to celebrate her birthday. This was about the fifth time we’ve celebrated her turning 11, but all girls have multiple events to mark the day they were born, don’t they?!

I followed the girls around all night, watching them laugh, take photos, and stalk (so not casually) a group of young boys. We took a break after they lost the boys and grabbed some flatbreads. They scarfed down their food, handed me their iPhones, and ran off to the nearby rollercoaster line that promised them a 30-minute wait. I sat at the table, babysitting their devices, and finishing their pizza scraps.

Alone, with just me, some crust, and their electronic devices, I was hit with this thought:

I am the holder of phones now.

Before, I was the holder of hands.
The buckler of belts.
The ride partner.

How quickly they grow up and you aren’t needed in that role anymore. You are still important. Their phones are basically their lives and heaven forbid something happen to their precious.

You hold their phones as they go off to wait in lines on their own, most likely still touching every damn rail and wall in their path because they still don’t give a shit how many germs cross their fingers. They are old enough to ride a heap of metal barreling 70 miles on a steel track all by themselves, but still not old enough to stop touching EVERY DAMN THING.

I sat and enjoyed the last remnants of mozzarella, silently wondering how MY child thinks that’s not the best part of pizza. Cheese?!?! If I didn’t see her shoot out of me 11 years ago, I would second guess she was my offspring. But I am eternally grateful because that means more cheesy goodness for me. The yang to my yin.

I gathered their phones and made my way over to the exit line and waited for them to come bounding out, hands held, high on the adrenaline rush. 

I smiled and handed back their phones. 

I may not hold hands anymore.
I may just be the holder of phones.
But I will always, and forever, hold these memories.