The baby woke beaming, as if seeing my face was the most wondrous thing ever, and I ached with love for him. We spent the afternoon in bed, feeding, cuddling, practising tummy-time. I amused us both, or at least myself, by making up more alternative verses for songs. Three little people in a flying saucer flew round the world one day, they looked left and right and they really liked the sight so they came for a holiday. The baby was in a playful mood, gurgling and babbling, so I took a video of him squealing with pleasure as I kissed his toes and sent it to my family group. We’d communicated more, in the few months since the baby was born, than we ever had before, and it was almost entirely through the medium of him.

awwwwwwwwwww

my youngest sister said, almost immediately

sooooo cute 49

give him a kiss from his aunty

My youngest sister messaged like the Millennial she supposedly was and I definitely wasn’t, despite the barely-four years between us: one line at a time, rarely any punctuation, and all lower-case. If she and her boyfriend were annoyed with each other, they would zap back and forth gales of messages one word at a time.

seriously

you

are

such

a

complete

and

utter

dickweed

sometimes

50My middle sister, from whatever time zone she was in, sent hearts-for-eyes.

Mum is typing … my phone said.

Mum is typing …

There wouldn’t be any response to the video from my dad. He caught up on all his messages once or twice a week, texting like the digital immigrant he was: long, single texts riddled with elisions and compressions (cu l8r), muscle memory from when you – or rather he – paid per message for all phones on the family account, and characters were limited.

Mum is typing …

Mum is typing …

I thought about my first-ever Nokia, and how miraculous it had seemed back then: the little envelope that showed a new message had come in; the string of flashing letters slowly scrolling across the small grey-green screen.

Mum is typing …

My mother, true to form, eventually sent a gif. She had recently discovered gifs and communicated almost exclusively, if often erroneously, through them. This one was a key moment from Flashdance. Despite having three daughters, I doubted she’d ever seen the film. On the spur of the moment, I rang her.

Hello? she said, sounding surprised.

Hi, I said. I just thought I’d ring.

Oh, lovely, she said. I’m in the Tesco’s car park.

Oh, sorry.

No, no, it’s nice to talk. Hang on. 51

There was a pause while she did whatever she did. My mum never phoned me, in case she disturbed me, she said, or woke up the baby. But I called her almost every other day now.

You saw the video? I said, when she came back.

Yes, did I not reply? she said. I thought I’d replied.