The Fine Art of Spying

Truth Thursday

I love spying. It's how I learn about how the world around me works.  As a writer, I use conversations I've overheard as fodder for stories. There's nothing more fun than sitting in a restaurant by yourself, pretending to be enjoying your meal and engrossed in your book, but what you're really doing is listening in on all the dinner table conversations within earshot. I also like to make up stories about the people around me wherever I am, much like that scene in Annie Hall where Woody Allen holds court with a running commentary on passersby from a park bench.

I didn't realize how truly useful these spying techniques would be until I became a parent. Once my children reached an age where they actually spent more time detached from my hip than attached to it, I needed new methods to figure out what they were thinking, what they might need, and how they were getting along in the world.

I have been perfecting the fine art of spying ever since.

My oldest son didn't talk until he was two years old, and didn’t bring home a lot of friends until recently, and he's already in high school. I can't get a lot out of my eavesdropping skills with him.  But as he knows, there is limited electronic privacy in our house, and I have the right to drop in on his Gmail and Facebook accounts and see what's going on. Unfortunately, his electronic communication as a teenager rivals his lack of speech as a young child, and he posts little and doesn't use email as a communications tool. The only emails of any interest were the ones from his teachers and his religious school boss, and I already get copies of those on my email.

Rats.

My 12-year-old daughter has a more complex social life and therefore there is more to be gleaned from even the simplest conversation. However, as she approaches teenhood, she is clearly keeping most of her secrets to herself. My iPhone gives me access to her Gmail account as well, but for the moment, her Buzz is all about pie and squirrels and ducks. Nothing juicy there. But I do listen in on street talk with her gang of buddies on our block.  From that I have learned that the 6^th grade boys have started to curse up a storm, showing off in front of the girls and each other. They are trying on new skins as they start middle school, trying to figure out what fits best.

As for the nine-year-old, I don’t have to do much spying because he still likes to tell me everything. Although I did learn, when I took him and three of his friends to a baseball game, that there was a girl he had a crush on. He hadn't told me that. But given that he was still in fourth grade, I'm not worrying too much.

I especially like driving my kids and their friends because that's when the really juicy stuff starts. If you’re smart enough to stay silent behind the wheel, they forget you're there and you can learn a lot. Last fall, a group of us took our kids and some other friends to the pumpkin patch. I got to drive the boys. There were a lot of silly noises and jokes about body parts and functions in my car. Apparently, the minivan with the 11-year-old girls was an alternate universe.

I will keep honing my eavesdropping skills for my work as a writer. And I will keep my spyglass handy as my kids continue to grow, keep more and more secrets from me, and develop their lives independently of me. I know that this is what they're supposed to do. But it gives me some comfort to keep my finger on the pulse of their hearts and minds, for small and big reasons alike. And just maybe, I'll catch wind of something juicy to boot.