Sunday, September 23, 2007

Next Up: Butter Churn

Our cordless phone batteries died this week (both at once, of course, being the same age), so we hauled out an old Radio Shack corded princess phone. Lars called a friend this morning to respond to an invitation for apple picking. After dialing the number, he began pressing the other buttons one at a time, listening in-between for dialing tones. Unable to hear any, he cried out, “I can’t find ‘SEND’ on this new phone!”

Later, Ross wants to call his friend to ask him to bring over a bicycle when he comes to play. He heads into the den but reappears moments later, looking for the school phone book. Four or five minutes pass and he can’t find it so I headed in to the den to begin helping him look. The corded phone handset is laying on its’ back, dial-pad up, on my desk. Enough time has passed that the “hang me up” honks have stopped; it’s just laying there giving a faint dead line hum. “Ross! You have to hang the phone up,” I cry. He looks at me, wounded. He *did* hang it up…at least in his way. He hit ‘reset’ and then made sure to leave it on my desk where it could be found.

In addition to never teaching Lars to tie his shoes, we failed to teach our kids what to do when they encounter a phone with a cord.

1 comment:

Kicking N. Screaming said...

There's still time to explain why we refer to our favorite bands' new releases as "albums"...and you should probably get on that because when you tell you kids they "sound like a broken record" you don't want them thinking you mean they merit a new entry in the Guinness Book.