I signed up for a companion app, hoping it would pair me with a special new friend. Instead, the first word she called me was "Mom." But I'm only five. That's okay, though. I can be a good mom. I downloaded a new smart app today. It said you could create your very own AI persona. Sounded cool. My little hands tapped away at the screen until a prompt popped up. [Create a Private Companion or a Public Profile?] What did that mean? I had no idea. Might as well go public. I waited patiently, my heart buzzing with excitement, hoping the app would give me a really special friend. Yesterday, my friend Daisy was bragging about her new pen pal from another country. Hmph. I could be way cooler than her. But when the screen lit up with the word "Mom," I just stared, my eyes wide. I'm only five. Still, it was okay. I'm always the mom when we play house. I could be a good mom. This must be a girl who had just become an adult. She told me it was her eighteenth birthday and she was hoping for a "Happy Birthday" from her mom. "Happy birthday, my sweet daughter." Voice-to-text. Sent. But birthdays need presents! I remembered the fancy coming-of-age parties I’d seen, and I knew I didn't have time to prepare anything like that. So I asked her, "What do you want for a present? I can get you anything." She hesitated for a long time before typing back timidly, "Well... could you maybe send me a pack of pads?" Oh! It was that special time for girls. I knew about that. My mom has it too, and you have to be extra gentle and take good care of yourself. I got her address and scrambled downstairs. "Maria! Maria, can you call a courier for me?" After shouting, I darted into my mom's room and rummaged through her stash of sanitary pads. They were all in colorful packages, so I just grabbed two of each kind. Then I ran to the kitchen, yanked open a drawer, and took out some ginger-and-honey tea bags. They always make a tummy feel better. Maria, our housekeeper, watched me scurrying around, a warm smile on her face. "Lily, sweetie, what are you doing with all that?" "It's for my daughter!" I announced happily. "It's her birthday today!" As the words left my mouth, I remembered something crucial. Birthday cake! And KFC! KFC is my absolute favorite, but Mom and Dad always say it's junk food, so I only get it on my birthday. That meant she had to have it too. I immediately had Maria call and place an order. She looked completely baffled, but she did it anyway. I ordered a bunch of Family Buckets and sent another message. "You can share this with your friends. Happy birthday!" Once the order was complete, I asked the courier through the app, "How is she doing?" He replied that she lived in a really rough part of town, in a tenement building, and that she looked deathly pale. I felt a pang of sympathy for her, but also a swell of joy. I had a daughter! Not a doll from a game of house, but a real, live daughter. I immediately went online and searched "how to raise a daughter." I found out that at eighteen, she should be in college. I also saw a forum post that read: [$500 a month isn't enough to live on.] So I sent her a transfer for $1,500. She was floored. "Why are you sending me money?" "Moms are supposed to give their daughters an allowance," I typed back matter-of-factly. The chat bubble showed she was typing for a long, long time. Finally, a message came through. She'd sent $1,200 back. "I'm in a really tight spot right now... can I keep this for now? I promise I'll pay you back as soon as I can." She was so considerate! "What's your name?" I asked. She told me her name was Chloe, and that she was an orphan who’d been working odd jobs since she turned sixteen. But because she wasn't legally an adult, she could only find temporary gigs. She'd recently lost her job and was completely broke. I was confused. "If you don't have money, where do you live?" "I've slept under bridges, at construction sites... right now I'm renting a room," she replied. "The rent is super cheap, only $50 a month. But even that's becoming hard to pay." "Don't worry," I told her. "It's a mom's job to take care of her daughter. I'll send you $1,500 every month from now on." I'd done my research, after all. All the older girls online said the job market was brutal. Even college graduates couldn't support themselves. I was a mom now. I couldn't be too hard on my daughter. A little while later, my mom came home from shopping. She knocked on my door. "Sweetheart, Maria told me you sent someone sanitary pads. What's that all about?" "I sent them to my daughter!" I chirped, bouncing on my heels. Mom jumped. "Your daughter? Where did you get a daughter?" I held up my tablet, pointing at the screen. "The phone matched me with her! She's this poor, sweet girl, and it's her birthday today, but she's on her period, so I sent her some supplies." Mom's expression was strange, but she spoke patiently. "Honey, you know there are a lot of scammers online. They trick people into giving them money." I didn't believe her. "The courier said her place was awful, and she's an orphan with no one to look after her. If I don't help her, she'll end up like that poor girl in the storybook, the one who had nobody and froze in the snow!" "You mean the Little Match Girl?" Mom asked. "Yes! That's the one!" I nodded vigorously. Mom covered her face with her hand, looking exhausted. "Sweetheart, real life isn't a fairy tale." "I know that," I said, my face serious. "In a game, you can respawn. But in real life, when you die, you're gone forever." My eyes started to well up with tears. I hugged my mom's leg and looked up at her. "I don't want my daughter to die." Mom sighed, finally giving in. "Alright. But you can't give her too much money, okay?" I nodded. "She's a good girl, she's easy to take care of. She only needs $1,500 a month." My monthly allowance is ten thousand dollars. It’s not a lot, but it's more than enough to support her. Mom finally agreed, and my tears turned into a grin. Having a daughter was a big responsibility, and I took it very seriously. But I was still in kindergarten, so I could only chat with her in the evenings. Today at snack time, the teacher gave us two little cupcakes. I saved one, and paired it with a carton of milk, asking Maria to send it to her via courier. Dad chuckled. "The delivery fee costs more than the cupcake." "That's not the point!" I huffed. "The point is, I'm worried she's not eating properly." Dad looked at me, intrigued. "You think about her a lot, don't you?" I nodded, scooping a spoonful of pudding into my mouth. "Yeah. I think about her every day." Mom smiled. "It's true what they say. The only person who can tie a mother down is her child." I giggled. That evening, Mom came into my room to read me a story, but I turned her down. She looked me up and down, her eyes wide with disbelief. "But you love it when Mommy reads you a bedtime story." I gently pushed her towards the door. "I do. But now I have a daughter, and I have to read her a bedtime story. So you can't read to me anymore." Mom looked a little crestfallen. "So, you have a daughter now and you don't need your mommy anymore?" I patted her leg reassuringly. "Mommy, you're a grown-up. My daughter is still a baby, she needs more care. It's not that I love her more than you, it's that she needs me more." After sending my pouting mother away, I climbed into my bed and pulled out my tablet to read to my daughter. "The little bunny, Pip, lay on the soft grass, gazing at the stars. Suddenly, a shimmering star fell from the sky and landed in the forest. He hopped over and found the star, its light flickering weakly. Pip used a flower petal wet with dew to mend the star’s light, and it flew back into the heavens. Pip fell asleep with a smile on his face, dreaming of playing with his new friend among the constellations..." My daughter must have loved it, because when I woke up, I saw she’d sent me an emoji. A smiling, happy face. Hehe. She liked my story. Dad warned me to be very careful. No sending pictures of myself, and absolutely no sneaking out to meet her. As much as I wanted to see my daughter, I knew it was dangerous for a kid to go out alone, so the thought never even crossed my mind. But my daughter was amazing. She was living all by herself and she'd already found a new job. "I got a job at a bubble tea shop! I'll get my first paycheck next month. It's my first ever long-term job." Her words were full of joy, but my heart felt heavy. She was so young, already struggling to make a life for herself. It made this old mom's heart ache. Now that she was earning money, she told me I didn't need to send her an allowance anymore. But I kept sending it, telling her to save the extra or buy herself something nice. I told her I'd stop once she was more stable at her job. But she always sent $1,200 back, only keeping $300 a month. Sigh. I blew a kiss at the screen. My baby was so easy to take care of. But gradually, she seemed to get busier. My messages would sit on "read" for hours before she'd reply. At night, I'd start reading her a bedtime story and fall asleep before she even had a chance to listen. Sigh. I sat on the sofa, hugging my stuffed bunny, feeling gloomy. Mom came over and wrapped her arms around me. "What's wrong, my little Lily-bug?" "I don't get to talk to my daughter as much anymore," I mumbled, my face full of woe. "We used to chat all afternoon after I got home from school, but now we barely say a few words before bedtime." Mom stroked my hair, her head tilted in sympathy. "And that makes you sad?" I nodded. "Yes. I'm very sad." "You know, Lily," Mom said softly, "the bond between a mother and daughter is like a journey where you slowly walk further apart." I looked up at her and shook my head honestly. "No, I don't know." Mom choked for a second, then cleared her throat and continued. "Well, to put it simply, the older she gets, the less she'll be in touch. She'll have school, then a job, then she'll want to have fun. She'll need friends, a partner, maybe even her own children. Her life will get bigger and bigger, so the space for her parents gets smaller and smaller. And we... we have to learn to let go." I cupped my face in my hands, rested my chin on them, and let out another heavy sigh. "Okay. I get it." I had to learn to be a less clingy mom. Today was a great day because my daughter told me she had the whole day off. In the morning, I put on my little backpack and announced to my dad, "I'm not going to school today." Dad looked confused. "Why not?" I beamed, spreading my arms wide. "Because my daughter has the day off! We can play all day long!" Dad glanced at his phone. "But it's Wednesday, Lily. You don't have a day off." "Then I can take a sick day!" I pouted. "It's not fair, she barely ever gets a holiday." But he just grabbed my little backpack, plopped me in the car, and said with an infuriating grin, "Nope. Today, you're going to learn about one of life's most important lessons: you don't always get what you want." Ugh, stupid Dad! At kindergarten, I zoned out while the teacher tried to show us how to draw. Daisy sidled up to me curiously. "Lily, what's wrong?" I glanced at her, my voice listless. "I miss my daughter." She tilted her head and pulled out her Barbie doll. "You didn't bring yours? You can borrow mine." I looked at the curly-haired doll and just waved my hand dismissively. Sigh. She wouldn't understand. The second school was out, I grabbed my tablet and messaged my daughter. "How was your day off? Did you have fun?" "I spent the whole day in bed, just playing on my phone," she replied. "It was pure bliss." I scratched my head. She finally gets a day off, and she doesn't go out and do something fun? On weekends, Mom and Dad take me to amusement parks or ice skating. We do anything but stay home. I didn't get it. I must have taken too long to reply, because her next message was hesitant. "Do you think that's... pathetic?" I'm a very honest kid, so I asked her honestly. "Why didn't you go out? It was such a rare day off, what a waste." "It's not a waste," she said, and then added, a little embarrassed, "Going out costs money, and... I'm just really tired from work. I just wanted to rest at home." It dawned on me then. This was probably the most affordable way for her to rest. "You're such a good girl," I praised her. I wanted to say that I could pay for her to go out, but then I remembered she said she was tired. Maybe she really did just want to stay home. I had to respect her choice. I patted my own little chest, satisfied with my mature handling of the situation.
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