Phone Tag

If you know me well, then you know I don’t normally jump to conclusions. Right.

Well, anyway, when I saw my cell phone bill yesterday, it didn’t seem like that much of stretch to assume one of the kids was at fault. The fact is, they play with my iPhone more than I do. Every time I need to make a call or play Words with Friends (Scrabble), I have to go hunting for my phone, which is usually being used to make a high-tech video of some stuffed animals singing along with Greg Russell. (He’s the guy sitting under a big oak tree singing children’s songs we go see every year on our annual beach trip. I’m actually a big fan, but once you’ve heard “I like sandwiches” about 1000 times, you start to regret that cd purchase). If only I had an iPad, then there’d be enough toys to go around.

It’s my own fault. Ever since I discovered my phone has become supreme entertainment for the kids. I can just hear generations before me saying this exact same thing about the television, but seriously, how did we ever get along without a smart phone? I know I said (at the beginning) that they would never touch my precious phone, but I’ve since found about a million reasons to download games to my phone. Basically anything that is not fun to do with a preschooler–waiting in a long line, sitting in traffic, grocery shopping–is a good reason to hand over the phone. This explains why my youngest child has become an iPhone guru. At just four years old, she wields that thing like a multitasking professional and could probably teach me a thing or two.

So, determined to place the blame elsewhere–because we all know I don’t like to talk very much and I would never, ever go over my minutes–I hopped right on the internet to study a detailed version of my phone bill. Ah-ha! Someone had placed a 40 minute call to Missouri. Rapidly I conjured an image of one of my kids dialing random numbers and then stupidly carrying the phone around (most likely in a plastic Minnie Mouse purse) while the long distance charges piled up. I waited until they were all seated before me at dinner, a captive audience to my wrath, and then I gave them one of those long-winded, authoritative speeches that they’ll refer back to in therapy one day. I ended by swearing that none of them would ever be allowed to touch my iPhone again. So there.

The next day I received an email from a colleague with whom I am currently working on a project, referencing our recent phone conversation. She lives in Missouri.


Well, I’m sure it won’t be the last time I blame my kids for my own mistake. Guess I need to put their games back on the phone, now, huh?

Note: I’m participating in a contest at Best Kids Apps, a blog about iPhone apps for kids, for a chance to win an iPad.

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