The Katie Chronicles: No Stranger Danger Edition

Fridays are our night to eat out, so last night we were getting take out. As an extrovert, this isn’t something I think about. I call, I order, I go on with my life. Introverts, or at least the young one who lives in my house, see this differently, apparently. Talking on the phone strikes terror into her heart. (Our family phone practically melded to my head as a teen because I spent so much time on it. I was talking to people I already knew, but still...how things have changed). As a woman whose favorite thing to make for dinner is reservations, I decided I could not raise a daughter unable to feed herself via the work of others, so last night was the time to learn to talk to strangers on the phone. After a little mom coaching and reassurance that the restaurant worker she was calling was, in fact, not a magical monster who could eat her soul through the phone, she got started on learning to order her dinner using the thing in her hand usually reserved for watching TikTok videos and texting. To sweeten the deal, I let her order from a restaurant that I wasn't in the mood for while I ordered my own dinner from another place. Phone skill tip number one: When you’re nervous, rehearse. So, was she ordering from the right location of the restaurant? Check. Did she know what she wanted to order in advance and what sizes? Check. Does she have mom's credit card ready to give them and know where to find the expiration date and security code? Check. Deep breath. And…dial.

On the way to the restaurant, I told her it was time for part two of the lesson: She had to go into the restaurant by herself and actually talk to a stranger face-to-face. And, since they didn't ask for my credit card when she ordered, she also had the additional challenge of giving the stranger money and getting change. Cue teen angst in the form of wailing and gnashing of teeth and a pointless bickering session over whether she could take my whole wallet in with her or just the $20 I handed to her. (Mother-daughter bickering is our cardio. She has a brilliant career in the law, I predict.)

I’m happy to report that Katie survived this gauntlet of horrors, getting her dumplings and fried rice and my change with little to no emotional trauma. And if I'm wrong, at least I gave her something to tell her therapist someday.