lockdown

The Magpie stopped dead in her tracks the other day, looked at me, and said

you know, all I have to do is find your phone, and then I can do whatever I want.

I’ve given her my phone on occassion type out a text to her friends (via their parents’ phones) or play a game of Angry Birds. A few weeks ago, while driving, I described the scribble required to log into my Android. It’s not exactly straightforward, but she instantly remembered it and hasn’t asked for a reminder since.

And she’s been on my phone a lot.

She has games in a folder – all kid friendly and age appropriate. She has a reading website bookmark saved to the desktop, a timer and a guitar tuning app that she sings to. Right nearby is the internet, documents and my plethora of email and social media apps.  Now that she’s reading more, she knows where the Kobo app is. Now that she’s started a private blog with Twitter-sized posts to her friends and family, she knows where the WordPress apps lives.

And, already, she – with my assistance – briefly posted a note to Quarter Rest in error.

Not unlike sending an email to the wrong recipient who lives next to the right one in your contact list, I opened the WordPress app and selected the wrong blog for her to work in. And then helped her post here. The post was up for a matter of mere seconds, but it was up. And it was long enough to show up in folks’ rss feeds (sorry about that…).

So we can chalk one incident on the interwebs up to my incompetence. But how long until my quiet child in the back of the car on the way home from after school care is actually posting a pic of the back of her mom’s head to Instagram? Or updating Twitter with a playground rhyme about farting? Or…actually reading the folks I follow on Twitter..?

Either that, or my phone needs to have alternate user logins. Because I am not getting a six-year-old her own phone. Or even an iPod Touch.

Got that, Samsung?

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