Dad Post #218

Today, Megan said, "Dad, do you have a Pinterest account? You should get one because I have awesome pins!" I won't be getting an acount, but good to know Megan has 'awesome pins.' I'll add Pinterest to the burgeoning list of things to monitor (along with Gmail, YouTube history, friends, grades, movies, Google Hangouts traffic, shows, songs, pop stars in crisis, piercings, eating habits, language, fashion, and everything else on the planet). We have so far disallowed Snapchat, Instragram, Facebook, and who-knows-what-else. Jeanette and Sophie keep me informed about things new and hip (and therefore, to me, suspicious). I try to be un-ignorant. It's hard. I'm on a collision course with a decade full of teenagers; I visualize it as a kind of imminent tidal wave or avalanche. I hope to be a beacon, a buoy, something steady and safe. Wish me luck.

There is a place Megan loves even more than theaters, malls, and nail salons. It's an enormous space in downtown Chicago, with seemingly endless hallways and countless stairwells, doors, desks, and mysterious rooms brimming, blinking, and humming with whiz-bang technology. The evidence of high-tech activity everywhere contrasts with the building's exposed, ninety-year-old bricks, pipes, cracks, and beams. There's also a 'game room' with everything imaginable, office supply kiosks, funky furniture, snacks and drinks in numerous 'micro-kitchens,' space age conference rooms, and a big tricycle to pedal around indoors. In a word, to M 'n' m, it's Eden. It's also where I work all week, and lately on the weekends. The kids join me sometimes and here's the problem: They behave glowingly as little visitors, but think it's so cool and fun, I'll never convince them I struggle there daily amid the pressures and tensions in all corporate settings. I like my job – and we do innovative, important stuff – but my smile weakens when Megan says, "Dad, you're so lucky, you get to go to work!"