My nearly eight year-old daughter just phoned me at home. From my own cell phone. From the kitchen. She actually walked from the kitchen to the laundry room (conveniently located beside the foot of the stairs, which is within yelling distance of me at present), rummaged through my purse to find my mobile, walked back to the kitchen, dialed our home phone number, and waited for me to answer. Why? To find out how to spell "spaghetti" for a homework assignment she was working on. Which all reminds me of a debate that has been going on in my extended... More »