I love you. Let's get married, go to Starbucks and text!

I'm sitting here watching the most surreal thing. I'm going to call this the Text Message Marriage.

And they've apparently birthed a 140-character child.

One, traffic was frelling horrendous. (Google it. You'll like it.)

I roll into the Starbucks and find this couple sitting and staring at each other. What I can only assume was their offspring was sitting in the corner, slamming away on her Nintendo DS with a pen-powered intensity that will carry her far in the bureaucratic ranks. Her magic stylus powers make her a born pencil pusher.

But back to the main event. I run to the ladies room because I need to "freshen up" and powder my nose. I come back and they're still staring at each other.

Only they're not staring AT each other. They're staring at their iPhones. Thumbs and fingers are whipping across the pad with lightning speed. They're less than two feet apart and they're not making a sound, except for the various squeaks and beeps of the phones.

I get my mocha, not a sound. The child has turned around, propped her back against the wall and is oblivious to the entire world. So are her parents.

Mommy has on one of those silly knit caps with the hanging bobtails on the ends. It is white wool and covers a head of Felicity-esque hair. Daddy is wearing an orange long-sleeve shirt and a brown puffy vest. He's so tough that he doesn't need sleeves on his jacket. And a Miami cap.

She has on quilted mules, he has on something that people use to muck out stables. And despite all appearances to the contrary, they're playing footsie under the table. I wonder if they're sexting?

The foot action is interesting here now. I haven't hear a word in the past 20 minutes, despite the skinny cow at the handoff bar yammering on for what seems like forever about her "ski trip to Vail" and how "these people totally don't know how lift tickets work." She sniffs and goes "I've been to France." And I've been to Mexico. Congratulations.

I really do think the couple is sexting. She's got her foot out of her shoes now. Eww. Eww. Toes. Ewww. Wrong. Even though they're not talking, I can only imagine what they're texting.

And they're leaving. Hmmm. I wonder where this is going? A little sister or brother perhaps?