Childhood story time

This little anecdote from my childhood popped into my head the other day. One birthday, my tenth I believe, I got a present from my parents in the form of my own telephone line. I even remember the number: 822-6024.

See, when my older sister was a teenager, she spent a large amount of time on the phone and my parents wanted to head that one off before it became an annoyance with me. This was great bragging rights with my friends, and became handy years later for late-night phone calls with boyfriends... but honestly, it wasn't at the top of my list.

But, what I was excited about was how cool and grown-up it would be to have my name in the phone book!  I was kind of obsessed at around that age at being "grown up," and MY VERY OWN NAME in the phone book was enough to make me beg and plead with my mom who was was completely reluctant, afraid it would be a dangerous invasion of privacy. 

So she unlisted the number, right?

No.  She had it put in, but without using my name, using a general phrase for the listing instead:

"Teen line"

*slaps forehead*

At the time, my thought was just omgMom,sosuperlame.  Looking back with less innocent eyes now, I realize how hilariously ironic that was in the name of safety.

(No, I never got any weird phone calls.  Those came a couple years later, when we moved to Oakville and my phone number was 844-4258, while the Beer Store's was 845-4258.)