Months after I replaced my work phone (keeping the old one), we openned an account for Matilda. Month after month she eagerly demanded, wished, and whined for a SIM card. Finally, her dreams have come true. Her face radiated achievement as she handled the phone yesterday evening. There was a strut in her step, and glow in her eyes. This morning she called me without more to say than "How are you doing?" Her childish voice sounds cute on the other end of the line. (Or wave?) I automatically launched into my parental role, "Remember, Matilda, you should only make calls that are necessary." But I was the first call she'd ever made on her first mobile phone.

My mother thinks giving phones to seven year olds is silly. She maybe right, but I think had phones been cheap and available when I was young, they would have been standard issue. After all, when we can't find Matilda, we can call her now. When I was young I roved far and wide; my mother never realized the range of my wanderings. A phone could have always reeled my in.