I have an iPad. It’s mine. I bought it for work*. It’s mine. I have to use it every day for work*. It’s mine. Where is it?!?
Our house, like many modern family homes, has been filled with the sounds made by the people at Toca Boca, Duck Duck Mouse, Sago Sago and various other weirdly named companies. To be honest, I don’t know how I feel about them. When I have a minute’s peace to myself, I think they’re wonderful applications which aid my sons’ computer literacy development. When I can’t find my bloody iPad for work*, or the battery is at 12%, I curse this modern hocus-pocusary for creating a generation of brain-dead iMorons.
There are some applications (mostly free) that I think have some benefits. Maybe I will talk about them at a later date. But for know, I want to vent my spleen about iPad arguments, and how I temporary put a stop to them.
My youngest has reached the stage when he is interested in all these gadgets. A couple of months ago, my eldest could’ve played with the iPad uninterrupted by his curious kid brother. Not any more. Lots and lots of fights now. There is only one solution – buy them one each, right?
In a moment of frustration caused by watching my beautiful toy** being snatched back and forth in two torrents of tears, I burst out, “Right! No more iPad! Only iDad!” I then reached for a sheet of A4, drew a couple of App buttons on it, pinned it to my chest, sat down on the sofa and waited with a blank expression on my face.
After a while, my eldest wiped the sad snot from his face, came over and tentatively pressed an button. Inspired by the fiendishly addictive Talking Tom, I gave my most over the top, Looney Tunes yawn. My son giggled. He pressed another. This time, I barked like a dog. He giggled louder. My youngest cast aside my iPad (BE CAREFUL!!) and sidled over. My eldest pressed another. I shouted “BOO!”. Both screamed and giggled. My youngest pressed the last button. I shouted “Tickle Time!” and chased them around the house. I had won – Ha! Take that Jobs!
Granted, it was primitive. It needed a hardware and design overhaul. I got the boys to put together iDad 2.0. They picked up their pens and pencils and drew new App buttons on paper then told me what they did. I then stuck them on my t-shirt.
iDad 2 – the greatest thing to happen to fatherhood since iDad! Now the boys were arguing over me, and snatching and pulling me about. That’s okay; I have a comprehensive warranty and have no plans to become technologically obsolete too soon.
I’m working on iDad 3. I’d like to say that it’s the thinnest iDad yet but time has been cruel to me. It involves sewing and resembles a overenthusiastic boy scout’s shirt. But it’s in production hell so don’t hold your breath.
* Angry Birds
** Work device