Stella has her own iPhone. It’s not what you think. A long while ago, Will found one abandoned with a shattered screen and no SIM card. At the same time, we were getting tired of wrestling our daughter for possession of our own phones which were bulging with obnoxious games and covered with greasy Cheeto fingerprints. We figured it would be worth the $70 bucks to fix the screen and load it with kid games. We could keep our phones sort of clean and sanitized and actually use them whenever we wanted to. We would have enough memory for our own apps and videos. You know. We could actually use and enjoy our own property.
It’s worked well, mostly. Sure, there are those moments at stores or restaurants where the kids get restless and mommy didn’t think to pack Stella’s phone. I do keep a token few games on my phone for such occasions. This is when I find this sort of shit on my photo stream.
And someone (dammit, Will) has taught her to take screen shots. We were talking about dung beetles before school today. I guess she needed to keep a memento.
We did have a rather serious episode about a week ago. Typically when it’s bedtime, I’ll take Felix into the kids’ room to get him to sleep while Stella plays on her phone in the “big bed.” Will had had a bad day, so was off in his man-cave playing some game. Stella suddenly came screaming down the hall for me, hollering in a panic about how her phone talked to her and she didn’t like it.
It turns out you can still dial #911 on a non-operational iPhone. Technically, she dialed #999. It diverted her to #911….twice. I guess the operators asked her where her mother was. How do we know? To find out for sure, Will dialed the number back. We apologized. What else can you do?
Ouch. Lesson learned.