My three-year-old daughter has an iPhone. Sure, it’s a first generation, hand-me-down model. And she’s just going to use it to watch her favorite episodes of “Backyardigans” and “Shaun the Sheep” when I need her to be distracted. But I bet if I spent 5 minutes showing her how to use it, she could make calls too.
We went into cell phone provider Claro this weekend to simply inquire about a wireless device for our computers and came out with a whole load of stuff. Including, a new iPhone 4 for me. All for about US$10. (Jeito works its magic again – I believe both my husband and the Claro guy won out on the deal they orchestrated.)
When I was in high school, I begged to have a phone in my bedroom. My option was one of those big, clunky, mustard yellow phones that was connected at both the wall and the receiver with a long curly cord. It might have even had a dial, if not, those square push buttons. All my friends had phones in their rooms. Some even had the slim, fancy kind. One even had her own line!
But there was no way in H-E-double hockey sticks that I was going to get a phone in my room. And I didn’t even ask for a television in my room. Not in my father’s house.
Now my 3-year-old has a contraption in her purse that not only makes phone calls, but plays her favorite shows, takes pictures and surfs the internet. I can’t even imagine what’s in store for the next generation – they’ll be living in their own apartments before the age of ten.