Dad has grown quite fond of my Ipad and I use it to show him a portfolio I made for my roommate.  While browsing through her work a message alerts him of new facebook notifications.  “Amanda and Jessica commented on your status,” dad says and instantly hits view.

Curiosity rouses mom from her spot on the floor and she peers eagerly over dad’s shoulder, “Oh cause you’re in a relationship, right!?” as though this is a new event I’ve just posted on facebook.  “No!” dad screams, “C’mon!”

“Oh that’s right, relationship status is in the sidebar,” mom says, the light dawning. 

“Dad doesn’t even have facebook and he knows!” I say laughing.

“Well he got laughed at!” mom points out.

Meanwhile dad has realized he can utilize facebook as a tool to stalk all my friends and acquaintances.  He begins reading statuses, browsing pictures and attempting to comment, only in hopes of securing a reaction from me.  “Jill is out deer hunting,” he reads aloud.  “How did you find that out!” mom demands. 

“He’s stalking me!”  I say.

“I’m becoming quite good at this,” dad says smugly.  I allow him to peruse my profile without censor and show mom tidbits of the code it takes to create a site.

I tell her this is the new language I’ve been learning.  “Oh!” she says in recognition, “Jpeg!  That’s the one you’ve been wanting to learn.”  I barely contain myself, “JavaScript. Jpeg is an image file”  I correct her.  “Close enough,” mom says dismissively.  I show her a few more lines of code. 

“Oh, I’d scream!” mom says her eyes widening incredulously.

“That’s what I used to say back when I was programming,” dad says without glancing up from his new toy.  I burst out laughing.  “What are you talking about?”  I demand, assuming this is another one of his ploys for attention.

“Back in 1975 I was making computer programs; It took pages and pages just to make something work.”  Mom takes this as her cue to chime in, “I took a computer programming class too,” she says.

“I got a C cause I never went to class.”  I stare at the duo dumbfounded.  “I mean NEVER,” mom says her eyes wide as she stresses this very important fact.

“So why did you stop?” I ask dad curiously. “He can’t even learn to navigate the computer!” mom answers nodding towards dad who is angrily jabbing at the  screen in hopes it will move.  “I figured I’d leave it for my kids,” dad says, as though he has given me some great gift. Gauging from his limited computer skills, I’d say this was a wise decision.

Mom and dad roadtrip to the cities this weekend to take my boyfriend and I out to lunch.

When they arrive, mom heads straight for my collection of dying plants.

She pauses briefly to assess the damage before reaching her hand up to stroke a leaf, “Not the bamboo Angela! You promised!” she cries.

“I should never have let you have it,” she says shaking her head.

Suddenly, her gaze turns towards my armoire where she spots the shriveled spider plant she gave me, its yellow leaves hanging limply down the side of the dresser. “Angela! This is the easiest plant to take care of! Go get me some water; all they need is water!”

It isn’t my intention to starve the plants, it just sort of happens. I watch them slowly turn yellow and make a mental note to water them more often, but it never seems to happen. By this time, dad has decided to start cleaning house. He’s running around emptying garbage pails and consolidating recycling.

He’s making quite a ruckus in the kitchen when I hear him shout, “Do you need this coupon?”

“What is he doing?” I ask mom in annoyance. “Oh just leave him be,” mom says, “he likes this. It gives him something to do.”

“Now,” she says pacing back and forth, “I need some scissors.” I find her a pair and she immediately begins snipping away at my plants, handing me handfuls of crispy, yellow leaves and asking me to dispose of them. “It’s like abusing an animal,” mom says sadly. “No, it’s not,” I protest. “Yes it is Angela. Plants are living things,” she says. When she’s finished my room seems to have sprung back to life.

Mom steps back to admire her handiwork. “Jim, why don’t you take this plant outside somewhere and dump it,” mom says gesturing towards the giant palm tree I’ve managed to completely destroy. ” Dad saunters back into my room and looks at the plant, “Well no wonder it’s dead,” he says, “you have it by the radiator!” It seems even dad knows more about keeping plants alive than I do.

About a year ago, dad calls me to see if I’d received the picture text he’d sent of my sister. “Are you learning how to text?”  I ask.  “Yeah… well, I’ve been doing a lot of it.” he says matter-of -factly. “You have, have you?” I retort in amusement.

“Ya at poker night and stuff…” he pauses thoughtfully, ” I should probably get on a plan. Mom gets the bill and it’s $1.10 extra and she makes me pay her for it!” Of course I find this absolutely hilarious because mom probably would make him pay for texting.

Earlier this year, mom finally adds more than four contacts to her cell phone and decides, she too, should learn how to text.  Her text messages far surpass dad’s one word responses.  She even boasts her ability to use Tword.

A few months ago, I go on Facebook and notice I have a friend request from mom.  I immediately phone her to find out why she joined Facebook.  “Angela!”  she gasps in feigned surprise, “Don’t you know Facebook is the next logical step after texting?”

Well of course it is, how could I be so naive.