Most of the applications that transferred to the boys' new iPod Touches when we synched them on Friday were purchased by Our Daughter. Along with fun games like TapTap Revenge and Angry Birds, they gained unlimited access to Makeover Madness, Pet Shop Girl, and Emily's Dress Up & Shop.
The end result is that half of their storage space is taken up by "girlie" apps that have no business residing on a ten-year-old boy's iPod Touch. It simply isn't manly.
Ever since that initial synch, the Italian has informed me at odd times about which apps he wants deleted, despite the fact I've told him we would sit down and take off all the offending apps at one time. Honestly, he's lucky I remember his name. Does he really think I'm going to remember the names of the different applications he throws at me in passing?
Also, I don't understand nearly so much about technology as people think I do. I must look just nerdy enough for folks to think I'm a closet techie. I can PhotoShop your face into a group picture, or throw together a quick flyer, but I'm pretty useless beyond that.
Unfortunatley, the German seems to labor under the mistaken impression that I know why the 3G connection isn't automatically set to "on" and therefore causing one or two apps to not function. I don't have a clue. I'm more than 30 years older than the technology in question, so I do what any good parent does in this situation -- ask my 13-year-old daughter to fix it for him.
Last night, before the teenager came to the rescue, the German couldn't get a particular app to work, so he asked his brother if he could borrow his iPod to play a game. The Italian, who was in the shower at the time, said "No." When pressed for a reason why the German couldn't, he again said "No."
Both My Lovely Wife and I found this to be an unreasonable response, so we told the German to go ahead and use his brother's iPod. We would face the music when he got out of the shower. And such sweet music it was...
The Italian doesn't whine, he cries. Zero to full-on cry in 1.2 seconds, in fact. That's been the story his entire life, although in recent years we've gone from seven things to cry about every day, to only one or two things worth crying over each week. Apparently, this was one of those things.
"I told him to wait until I was out of the shower-er-er!" he cried.
"We told him he could use it."
A comical mixture of disbelief, betrayal and shock consumed his wet face. He retreated to his bedroom, in which one can safely assume he was lying face down on his bed and crying into his pillow. He eventually emerged, still tearful, still a throbbing in his voice, to chastise the German.
"Come here!" I ordered. He slowly made his way to me, one hand keeping his towel around his skinny frame and the other clutching his recovered iPod. "What is your problem?"
"I was playing a game and I didn't save it and now I have to repeat the last level all over again-ain-ain..."
"What game?" I asked. "What game is so important that you have to cry about it?"
He quickly pointed to the screen. "This one," he cried. But the move was so fast, I couldn't tell which app he pointed to.
He pointed again, only this time he spoke a little more quietly. "This one."
I took hold of his hand and turned the iPod to get a better look at the all-important application. Sally's Spa... Yes, that's right. My 10-year-old son threw a massive hissy fit because he might have to replay the mani-pedi round in a game in which you design and run your own virtual spa.
It could be worse, I suppose. At least it wasn't the app for tracking menstrual cycles.
© 2011 Mark Feggeler