When I realized that a Twitter tab hadn’t been updated in an hour, I checked and found out that Twitter is down. Is Twitter down? Yes!
In other news, a popular tweeting military mom gets slammed for announcing that her son died on Twitter while it happened. Well, that’s not exactly true, but within a few hours of him dying, she started posting stuff about it on Twitter. He was found drowned in her pool. Critics are saying that if she spent as much time with him as she did on Twitter, he might still be alive. Some say that this is the danger of social media.
Not long after that, a firestorm erupted on Twitter, with strangers wondering what kind of mother tweets during a crisis. The debate has been going on for days around the Internet, with critics calling Ross callous (and suggesting that if she had been paying as much attention to her child as she had to her Twitter account, her son would not have come to harm) and supporters (many who know her in real life, and others who have never met her) describing her as a caring mother who reached out to her virtual community during a tragedy.
I found this part particularly funny. V was sick, she’s back and it’s fun.
I jumped out of my chair so fast you would have thought someone lit my ass on fire. “Of course you can have a glass of milk!” I told her, “Any girl with manners as perfect as those can have all the milk she wants!”
As I walked to the fridge and poured her milk, I went on and on and on about how adorable little girls with good manners are. After I handed her the glass of milk, she enthusiastically said, “Thank you!”
I dramatically clutched my heart and insisted that my body could not handle this level of cuteness. I implied that if she kept this behavior up, I might just keel over dead after having a cute-attack. She giggled happily.
I sat with her as she ever so daintily sipped her milk. I was sure to let her know that the way she was sipping out of her glass was especially regal and speculated that she must come from a long line of royal princesses. She beamed.
When she was all done, she picked up her glass and dropped it into the kitchen sink. I responded by hurling my body to the floor, twitching and convulsing in throes of a full-fledged cute-attack.
“Oh no!” I moaned, “I can’t take this! Please, thank you, and putting your cup in the sink? Are you trying to kill me? What’s next, Princess? Are you going to pick up your toys without me asking? Oooohhh! I can’t take it! I can’t take the cuteness!”
Laughing hysterically, she ran into her room and starting picking up her toys.