Give me some words too

Okay, so here's a little tid bit about me.

Texting is my love language.

Or at least one of them.

So when I write a nice long heart felt text and get "k" in return, it makes me want to punch something. 

I try to be understanding, I truly do.  I go through the list of possibilities in my head.

"Maybe they left their phone at home.  Maybe it's on vibrate and they don't hear it.  Maybe they're in the middle of a really important meeting and that's why it's been four hours since I've heard back.  Perhaps their thumbs were broken in a freak door slamming accident."  One can dream.

But when I see, for example, daughter texting like mad with her friends, I know that she is indeed capable of texting more than four characters at a time. 

But then she does this:

Me:  Is your friend still there?

Aliya: No

Me:  Do you think she had a good time?  Are peeps eating my snacks from last night? 

Aliya: Yeah.  Yeah.

Me:  You, little miss, write the shortest texts ever.  At least to me. Turd bucket.

Aliya: Well I am very sorry for my laziness and for causing you any inconvenience. Please accept my
apology. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?  Would you rather I send you lengthy texts like these more often?

Me: Oh yes! Thank you! I feel so loved now! I'm doing the traditional dance of glee that the high landers do in the Netherlands. You bring me such joy. I'm glad you sprang from my loins dear child :)

Aliya: Weirdo. 

But you see, at least she's texting me more than two words.  Ahh, weirdo like a fox!

And when hubby didn't text me back after five hours I had no choice but to send him this:

Well I can only assume you have been captured by creatures from another planet and they have taken you back to their capsule where they will perform hideous experiments on you after a rousing game of scrabble.  Everyone knows space creatures love scrabble.  Of course you lost because they are mind readers.  They are not above cheating. It was nice knowing you.  We had a good run. 

He was eventually able to prove that he was not captured by creatures from space and replaced with a look a like, by knowing my favorite coffee drink combo.  A grande iced skinny carmel machiato.  Any man willing to remember that for me is a keeper. 

Still, five whole hours. 

I was kind of hoping his thumbs were broken.  I mean if there were no aliens at least give me that.