Letter to Adult Children Who Think We Were Born with a Bluetooth

Yes, I see you over there, rolling your eyes so hard you're one blink away from launching into orbit. “Just Air Drop it, Mom!” “Why not stream it?” “Clear your cache!” “Update your OS!” You speak these terms with the confidence of someone born holding a touchscreen. Meanwhile, I’m still wondering if “the cloud” requires an umbrella.

Let me be clear: I’m trying. But navigating modern technology feels like entering a cornbread contest, wanting to win, only no one gave me the tutorial, and the rules are written in another language.

Let’s break this down:

AirDrop?                                                           When you say, “Just AirDrop it,” I’m thinking about tossing my phone into the air and hoping it lands in your hands. Am I supposed to fling data like it's a carrier pigeon with a USB drive taped to its leg? Why can’t we just use email? I halfway understand email.

The Cloud?                                                                                                                                        The “cloud” used to mean something fluffy in the sky that might ruin a picnic. Or reading the book 'It Looked Like Spilled Milk' to a group of 7-year-olds and tearing clouds from paper. At one time, I enjoyed searching the sky and watching the fluffy white clouds change shapes. Now it stores my photos, my files, my entire digital soul, somewhere, but if I ask where, you look at me like I just asked where Wi-Fi lives.

Streaming?                                                                                                                                    “Just stream it.” Okay, but last time I checked, a stream was a nice little creek with minnows, maybe a frog, and a place to dip your toes in the cool water on a summer day. Now it’s Netflix, Hulu, YouTube, Disney+, and something called Crunchyroll? Honestly, it’s starting to feel less like entertainment and more like a digital buffet that forgot to label the food. There are so many choices, I can’t find anything to watch. What happened to the local channels?

Cookies?                                                                                                                                               You say my browser has “cookies.” That used to be a good thing. A delicious thing. Now they’re invasive, privacy-invading data crumbs. So, are they good or bad? Do I accept them, block them, or offer them milk?

Passwords & Their Evil Cousins                                                                                                  Let’s talk passwords. I create one. I forget it. I reset it. Then I forget the new one. The system says it’s “weak,” so I add numbers. Still weak. Add a special character. Fine. Then it asks for two-factor authentication, a security code from my email, a retina scan, and the maiden name of my 3rd grade teacher.

The question that brings a smile to my face is, “Where were you born?” I enter the place I was born, “Brooks Bend,” and I get a message, “invalid response”.  After struggling to figure out what's invalid about my birthplace, I chose a different question.

By the time I’m done logging in, I’ve forgotten why I wanted to use the app in the first place.

Talking Devices?                                                                                                                              And don't even get me started on my phone talking to me without provocation. Sometimes it lights up just to say, “I didn’t catch that.” I didn’t say anything. I start typing a text, and the phone completes my sentence. That was not what I wanted to say! How does that happen?    

FaceTime?                                                                                                                                           Don’t get me started on FaceTime. Children think it’s adorable to “drop in” for a quick chat, but is it really adorable to ambush your parent at 7 a.m. in high-definition before I've had my coffee or brushed the three remaining hairs I’ve got left?

What about Zoom?   

Oh, sweet Zoom. Every time I use it, I feel like I’m seconds away from accidentally launching a missile or livestreaming my forehead to the entire extended family. The buttons change, the settings hide, and no matter what, someone always shows up muted, upside down, or stuck in a potato filter.

Google Docs?                                                                                                                                   I’m currently trying to fill out a Google Form, which seems less like a form and more like a cryptic puzzle written by someone who assumes I have a PhD in Digital Bureaucracy. It’s asking about “permissions” and “access settings” and whether I want to "enable editing for collaborators." Collaborators?! I’m just trying to RSVP for a potluck supper.

Now, Here’s the Thing!          

I get it. You grew up in the age of gigabit speeds, push notifications, and wearable tech that counts your breath. Tech is your native language; it’s as natural to you as swiping or ghosting someone. Let’s pause for a little historical context.

I taught you how to talk. I fed you, bathed you (mostly), and kept you from electrocuting yourself with household outlets, which, frankly, is more impressive than surviving a malware attack. And let’s not forget the infamous “cattle watering barrel” incident at the farm. Ah, simpler times, when your idea of an immersive experience involved actual mud, not a VR headset.

Also, let’s talk diapers: cloth diapers. No smart sensor that pinged my Apple Watch when you needed changing. Just a stack of fabric, boiling water, and a level of patience that would crash your average server. White noise machine? You mean the neighbor’s dog, a squeaky floorboard, and the soothing sound of me muttering under my breath.

There were no YouTube tutorials, no Pinterest parenting hacks. Just intuition, family wisdom, and a healthy amount of winging it on a dial-up connection to sanity.

And sure, I made a few mistakes, okay, let’s call it “beta testing”, but you made it to adulthood with your limbs and hopefully some manners. You’re welcome.

So yes, maybe I don’t fully grasp your current tech ecosystem. I might think “Google Home” is some kind of real estate listing, or that “Smart Thermostat” is what happens when the furnace listens in on our conversations (which… might not be far off, actually). But let’s be clear:

I leave you with this!       

I’m not mad. I’m not even that confused (well, maybe a little). I just grew up in a world where tech was a dial tone, not an algorithm. Where “streaming” was something you fished in. Where phones only made calls when attached to the wall.

So be patient with me. I may not be fluent in your native digital dialect, but I’m learning. I ask questions not to annoy you, but because I genuinely want to understand. (Also, sometimes the questions do annoy you and I enjoy that a little.)

I don’t expect to be a tech wizard but I also refuse to be left behind like some obsolete version of Windows. So keep teaching me, keep laughing with me (not just at me), and maybe write down that Wi-Fi password somewhere I can find it.

I may not know the difference between iCloud, OneDrive, or whatever dark corner my photos keep vanishing into, but I do know how to make chicken and dumplings, fold a fitted sheet (sort of), and love you unconditionally.   No Wi-Fi required.

Signed,

Your Loving, Slightly Confused, Still-Trying Parent

(Version 2.0, Currently Updating…)