Reminder

Last fall I was eligible for a new phone and decided to make the leap to a smart phone. I wanted the iPhone. I went to our wireless provider to get it. But the techy-smart-twenty-something behind the counter waved a Droid in front of me with a bigger screen and convinced me it was better. I took the bait. I took my new phone home and didn't like it.

Shortly after, Shane became eligible for a new phone and (because he's awesome) he said to me, "I'll take your phone. You can get your iPhone." And I did. Awesome.

Last week I updated it. And by I, I mean I plugged it in, and it updated itself. Since updating it, there appeared a new icon on the screen called "reminders". It's exactly what it sounds like. You type in what you're likely to forget, and your phone won't let you. I opened it, played with it a bit, typed in an insignificant reminder, decided (since I use a calendar app) I'd probably never use this one and closed it.

Fast forward to just before noon today when Libby and I were standing at the front door waiting for Peyton to change her clothes again, before we could walk out the door. Mind you, clothes are an issue in this house. They are our issue. Things have gotten better, but sayings such as "No, you can't wear a leotard to Costco. Okay, yes, you can wear it if you add a tutu. Not that tutu. Because it's too big to buckle you into your car seat, that's why. And please take off your ballet slippers and put some shoes on." These exasperation filled conversations are not uncommon. They're less a conversation and more of a barking of orders while pleading with them to please move faster.

We were right in the middle of such an episode today when my phone made an unfamiliar sound. Not a text. Not an email alert. Something new. I took it out of my bag, put in my passcode and got my reminder.....

Bossy iPhone.

Coincidence? Hardly.