The continuing saga of text messages between me and my baby.
EDIE: Where are you? I keep turning my little baby neck and you are nowhere.
POP: I'm not near you. I'm in Boston. You're in L.A.
EDIE: I don't know what that means. Distance is a mystery to me. Are these the names of rooms? Because I'll crawl to Boston and lick the walls on the way.
POP: You'd have to crawl through the hallway of Nebraska and you would die from boredom.
EDIE: Just come out of the Boston room. I want to play.
POP: I'm sorry, baby. Boston isn't a room. It's a city. I'm very far away from you.
EDIE: That sucks! I hate you now. Never come back.
POP: Well, you're coming to me.
EDIE: Not likely, pal. This room is amazing. I have grandparents and cousins and a dog that looks like a mop.
POP: The "L.A. Room" is great. But we're moving to Boston. You're just on vacation.
EDIE: Well, vacation is awesome. Let's always be on vacation.
POP: So says every adult that works ever. My fingers would sigh but I haven't always been gainfully employed so I really have no right.
EDIE: What's the big deal? Just move out and here and live with my grandparents. They're great. You should meet them.
POP: I already know them. And we can't. You can't just live forever with parents. It's like a societal thing.
EDIE: I'm not always going to live with you? What will I do?
POP: Well, eventually, you'll feed yourself and clothe yourself and provide for yourself.
EDIE: If you kick me out, I'll just live with these "grandparents" people. They freaking adore me. Who are they anyway?
POP: Those are your Mom's parents. Do you really not know how relationships work?
EDIE: I know how they work. I scream for food or a toy and everyone who is related to me jumps and everyone who isn't watches me like I'm a little monster.
EDIE: Fine. So let's say I do want to see you again, theoretically, and I'll come with Mom to "Boston". What's so great about it?
POP: There's lots of history here. Emerson, Hawthorne, Alcott, Thoreau all lived here-
POP: The beautiful forests.
EDIE: Great. More gianter things than adults. Next.
POP: You could acquire a weird accent.
EDIE: It's going to mix with my Brooklyn one. I'm going to sound crazy.
POP: And people will murder you here if you don't like their baseball team. So dedication.
EDIE: I don't know what murder is but it sounds wonderful. Does it taste like hotdogs?
POP: You don't really have a choice. You're coming to Boston with your mom.
POP: Not exactly.
EDIE: Does Boston have delicious fish tacos and mexican food that you or Mom will feed me little pieces of?
POP: No. There's no good Mexican food out east.
EDIE: Does Boston have a swimming pool? Grandparents? Moppy dog? Uncle James or Cousin Taylor? Otter pops?
POP: No, no, no. It just has me and your Mom and a buttload of winter. Just get over it. This is where we're living.
EDIE: I'm staying here! Try to make me leave!
POP: You're a baby! I just have to pick you up! You have no muscles!
EDIE: You're kidnapping me! I'll call the cops!
POP: Well, you're out of luck non-speaker. You can't text 911.
EDIE: I'm doing it. I'm texting them.
POP: Good luck with that.
EDIE: Oh no. You can text 911. They said they're coming to our house!
POP: I don't know anything about this. Erase this message.
EDIE: Deal. Baby out.