God help me; I have cell phone lust.

Today marks the end of an era. The era when I made a parenting decision and stuck by my guns is over. Unfortunately. Because up 'til now, I haven't been the sort of person to cave just because someone whines, or pouts, or tells me that all the other kids have a (desired object).

But I just ordered my daughter a cell phone. Which I had vigorously resisted doing.

Her birthday's on Monday. She'll be 11. Viewed objectively in the cold, clear light of the internet, she's really too young to own a cell phone. Right? I mean, she loses things. A lot. Also, she has Asperger's Syndrome, which affects social interaction, which means she doesn't have dozens of little tween-aged friends to talk to and IM and text. Well, actually, she doesn't have any little tween-aged friends. So whom is she planning to call, anyway?

Oh, wait a minute. Me. If she has a charged cell phone on her person, in case of some scheduling snafu or other semi-emergency, she'll be able to call me. Even better, I'll be able to call her.

Although if she does have a charged cell phone on her person during a crisis situation? I'll have all the proof I need that I really did bring the wrong baby home from the hospital.

Anyway, I went to the Cingular website and ordered her a free phone--who cares about the model, the important thing is that it's red--and the cheapest possible monthly plan, and some limited texting ability, and an insurance plan for if when she loses it.

And then I fell sick in love with this:
People, it does everything. And it has a qwerty keyboard. And GPS and satellite radio. And MicroSoft Office. And tethers to a laptop as a mobile high-speed modem. WANT.

Unfortunately, it costs even more than an iPhone. And have I ever tapped into even a quarter of what my Razr can do? No, I have not.

So what. I don't care. Lust is irrational, and this is lust talking here. WANT.