iPhone the Third went kaput a few days ago. iPhone the First went to a watery grave in the bathtub. When iPhone the Second arrived, after paying a $200 Stupid Tax for the replacement, the husband handed it to me and asked, “I know it can get crazy, but do you think you might keep the kids from taking it into the bathtub?” Replied I, “Oh. Yeah. The kids…suuuuuuure.” Had no idea all this time he’d thought it was one of the boys.
iPhone the Second went to a watery grave in the toilet. That one was a kid. Two was sitting on the potty like a big boy and I was doing the obligatory Mom Makes Herself a Fool dance about preschool poop that finally landed in the potty instead of in a pull-up. In my peripheral vision, I see Three, giggling like mad, race up to the potty edge and reach over with something in his han-OHMYGODTHAT’SMYPHONE! and plop, sunk like a rock.
Yes, I tried the rice and the vacuuming and the blowdrier and the sun and the hard reset and the native dancing under a harvest moon. Wasn’t going to happen. $200 later, iPhone the Third arrives, and I promptly research to discover how best to protect my now-$600 iPhone. I come across this bad boy, and I imagine the protection. The encasing. The safety. *shiver*
I’m imagining the dedication it would take just to answer a call. Haul out a box approximately the size of War & Peace in hardcover, and just as unwieldy, in the middle of the toothpaste aisle. Perform manipulatives and deft maneuvers that finally pop open cover, reach in and retrieve iPhone. Retrieve speakers from bag, place over ears, secure wires from Three’s hands that desperately want to grab them, tear case out of Two’s paws who is silently and deftly disassembling and rebuilding it into a bomb, explain patiently to One that no, he can’t use the phone to text his Mamie a brazillion emoticons and 8 lines of “ilove you”, and ignore the follow-up “why? why? why? why? why?”
Of course, by now, the phone call has rolled to voicemail, so I start the message and I hear, “Uh………..*clickclacktypeclack*………it’s me. *clickclacktypeclackclick* Sorry. Hang on. *clicketyclackbackspacebackspacebackspacebackspace.* Just a sec. *returnreturnreturn* *SIGH* Okay. Hey. It’s me. Just uh, calling to, uh….hang on. *covers mouthpiece and muffled talking* Igottago.”
Yeah, soooooo worth it.
Oh my stars. Who ARE you?! I love this bit. Can see every part of it.
Love your writing.
And your outlook on life.
I will be back. Probably quite a bit 🙂
Well, thank you so! What a delightful thing to say. I enjoyed your blog as well, looking forward to seeing more. Hope to see you again soon.
Oh! Extreme internet small world weirdness! My little sister and Laura Jane know each other, for real, in real life!
Here’s my sister, if you’d like to complete our little three-degrees-of-separation circle: http://sistertwo.wordpress.com/ She is very funny, very smart, and says fuck a lot. (Not so much in the blog, because our mother reads it, but you know what I mean. She’s one of those awesome women and I want to be like her when I grow up.)