We’ve gone nearly two weeks without losing the TV remote. At first glance, this would seem good fortune. But it may be merely that the biggest culprit has moved on to hiding other things.
I’ve never owned a cell phone. Someday society will force a cell phone upon me, but I’m trying to hold out at least until 50, when age may make me less embarrassing to my family as I proudly wield my new, operator-assisted Jitterbug.
Easy-to-read buttons will make it simple for me to phone customer service and complain about people calling me.
In these days when a reliable cell phone is a higher priority to most humans than a reliable liver, I am able to exist without one only because I have become a singularly unimportant and disagreeable person, so no one needs or wants to call me.
I have a home phone line. It is mostly used by telemarketers; they don’t discriminate against the useless or the surly. Occasionally, I use it to expedite my affairs, but mostly it’s just a tease for telemarketers.
Unlike his father, Big Man loves talking on the phone, even when he is talking to dial tone. He demands the phone any time someone has it in hand and screams bloody murder if he’s left out of a conversation. When he gets his hands on it, he walks around the house with the phone resting on his shoulder, oozing happy baby talk to the spirit of Alexander Graham Bell.
His love of phones dates back to his childhood.
He knows more about using the phone than his father does. One day he changed the ring tone so it played Für Elise. Who knew it could do that?
We used to have two cordless phone sets. For the past few weeks, we’ve had one. The one that isn’t mostly broken disappeared. Rather, it was taken. Big Man climbed up the bar stool next to the counter, grabbed the phone from its dock, and scampered off with it.
That’s the last anyone saw of it. Now, we’re left with the one containing an unreliable battery. And the baby hasn’t even taught me if this one can play music when it rings.
I’ve searched his normal hiding spots for the good phone, not because I’m missing important calls, but because I hate to lose things, especially the less-broken versions of things. My wife pointed out Big Man’s abbreviated height. “It could only be in so many places,” she concluded.
And I’ve looked in all of them.
No, it’s not in your stash between the love seat and the lamp post. I already looked there.
I asked Big Man where he put it. He hid his guilt behind the excuse of not being able to speak English yet, but he gave me a little smile that said, “I’m sure a cookie would help me remember.”
Nuts to cookies! I know when I’m being played.
I don’t think he remembers where he put it. He’s moved on to Mommy’s iPhone now. Yesterday, he snatched it from her purse and purged her calendar. Mommy’s life is written in that calendar, or was.
That puts it into perspective for me. Poor Mommy has no idea where she’s supposed to be. I just have one fewer phone not to answer. I guess I made out pretty good.
Snoozing on the Sofa 
I guess your philosophy now is that the less you become attached to the less they can hide? LOL.
I’m thinking of burning all my worldly possessions so that I will become untouchable.
Hah. You probably won’t have to do that yourself……
I have three willing volunteers.
Here’s a thought. What about putting things up high where things can’t be reached? Or locking them down ha!
He’s a climber. And I can’t see having to open a vault just to speak to a telemarketer.
Well the only solution I can think of is to get a shed and turn it into a “mancave” with a lock on it.
Then I’ve got to wire it or, God forbid, go cellular.
Well doggoneit now what?
A lonely, phoneless life.
Well at least you have internet!
And I’ll learn to be happy with that.
I’m sure you’ll be better for it!
Couldn’t be worse.
Aha! Until they find the computer and hide that or take it over…
Too late.
Well crap!
Good for you for saying no to cell phones. That’s awesome. Most days, I wish I could say the same.
Modern times are catching up to me, I fear. If not for the kids, I think I could go without one indefinitely.
LOL Great post, Scott. Being played, nuts to cookies, mommy has no idea where she’s supposed to be! Hilarious stuff!
And after all that, I still don’t have my phone. Maybe I ought to give in and start handing out the cookies.
I understand why you’d feel like caving in, but you mustn’t do it , Scott. Handing out cookies is only the beginning. Then it will be candy, toys, and before you know it…keys to the car! Where will it all end? Becoming the new host of The Price as Right? That’s simply too much pressure for a regular dad who hasn’t even hosted…Whose Line is it Anyway. No Scott…keep searching, don’t give in the to…the small one—even though the force is strong in this one. 😀
I’ll take it one day at a time.
That’s probably best.
Here’s an idea, Scott. Have mommy call your landline from her iPhone. Go to the music ring and find the hidden handset. Ahem. I may have had to use this method to find “misplaced” phones in my dear wife Karen and I’s life. 😮
Problem is, he opened the line before he lost the phone. By the time I went looking for it, the busy signal had stopped or was too faint to hear. I had to unplug the base from the jack so I could use the other phone.
Dagnabbit! He’s too smart for us, that Big Man.
He is a clever one. There should be a law against babies being smarter than their fathers.
Yes. That shouldn’t happen until the graduate to the Stage Two Beech-Nut/Gerber jars, Scott.
Oh, he doesn’t like that stuff anymore. He wants real food, and lots of it. Is Beech-Nut still in business? My sister used to have a summer job at the plant in Canajoharie, but I believe they closed that down some years ago.
I haven’t checked lately on baby food, Scott. I do recall driving past that factory on the side of the Thuway and being hit with the pleasant aroma of Juicy Fruit gum!
Now you’re really taking me back.
Oh Scott, I missed you so much. I love your surly, disagreeable self. I’m still laughing. Be sure to text me your cell number when your kids hit their teens and you are forced into a brave new world which you have chosen to prepare yourself for… Not at all.
Wait. You can text on a Jitterbug? Now I’m not sure I want one. Missed you too.
I believe you can text on a Jitterbug these days. They have a gigantic slide out keyboard/reading glasses case.
Mark my words, man, when your kid gets his first phone, you’re going to want one too. It’s become the first and best way to communicate with that generation — sometimes even when you’re standing nose to nose. He may not call home, but you can be damn sure he got your text — even at 2 am when you’re sitting up waiting for him to come home.
For several years when my niece was a teenager, I firmly believed that she had had her phone surgically grafted to her hand.
Oh my goodness! So much for my lifelong quest to separate myself from the world. I’m being sucked back in, and by a culture where text is a verb!
Yep. It’s been a verb for a good 15 years, you know. OMG, LMAO and FML. All at the same time.
OMG! What have we come to?
Oh, Scott, this is hysterical!!! How funny that your little guy has a phone fetish and has stolen a remote and erased your wife’s calendar. How did he KNOW how to do that? Seriously? He cannot talk yet but he managed to erase something in an iPhone? And to make you feel better, I have a trac phone that I use ONLY for emergencies. And even then, I forget I have it. LOL I shall not have a phone tied to my hand and miss out on LIVING. Nope. Not going there!!! GREAT post!!! ❤
The kid has an immense curiosity, and he remembers his discoveries. Once he learns to talk, I’ll think I’ll ask him to teach me how to fix things around the house. I’ve always wished to be more handy.
Scott, he scares me. Hehehehehe He is TOO smart. You’d better nail down everything that moves. And put everything breakable in a basket hung from the ceiling. LOL
Everything breakable has already been broken by his two older brothers. I’m hoping he’s the one who knows how to fix stuff.
I can’t get past the fact that you don’t have a smart phone, Scott! No iPhone to go along with your wife’s plan? Wait until your teens “need” a phone and you need to spy on them. We’ll talk 😀
Yes, there will come a day. I’m just trying to squeeze out a little more freedom.
I support your fight for freedom!