Every New Year, our church schedule changes from 9 a.m. to 11 a.m. For most people, 11 a.m. is the most optimal time to give you extra time in the mornings. I was particularly looking forward to the change this year because it will still give us time to drive back from the mountains and make it to church on weekends we’re away.
I was recently reminded that all that extra time lends itself to mischief.
It started out innocently, as it always does. Jamie’s and my king-sized bed is a central place in mornings and evenings. Somehow, we all congregate here to snuggle up, read, watch TV and just hang out. On Sunday, we were playing around on my iPhone and we had a blast looking at their technologically outdated websites Jamie made announcing their birth, which I haven’t seen in years (Hadley’s and Bode’s).
That led them to asking about milestones in their lives like the first day of kindergarten, birthdays, etc. and it was so fun to glean the archives in my blog. It made me so grateful I’ve kept a record of all these memories and reminded me I need to bite the $$$ bullet and get my blog printed into a book for our own family history.
Then they started getting bored and who better to entertain you than Siri on the iPhone? We learned some interesting facts about her animal preference:
Ummm, OK.
Here’s the thing about Siri: I’ve trained her well. Not only does she talk to me in an Australian accent but she calls me “Queen Mother.”
The kids have a whole string of funny nicknames and songs they’ve made up–most recently they’ve been calling me “Muzzy, Muz, Muzzy Boo.” That would have been swell if they’d programmed Siri to call me that but it was worse. Much worse. Poor Siri had been compromised and all I could do was sit back and watch. Deeply dismayed, I finally rescued Siri and told her “Don’t let my children play with my phone.”
She responded with a web search for “Raising Savages.”
It’s like she totally gets me.