After standing in a freezing cold field for a couple of hours yesterday morning watching our eldest’s football team get walloped by a team of bigger, stronger, faster girls (most of which appeared to be at least a year older), I finally escaped with Miss Eight in tow, and jumped on the train to Reading.
Destination Apple Storeand asked if she could go to the big park in town. The one that’s a mile walk away.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re not old enough to go on your own”
“But can you take us?”
I then spotted the friend who had put them up to it, hiding behind the bushes at the end of our drive. The same little girl who’s family never look after her. She had already spent the greater part of Sunday in our house, and I’ll be damned if she’s going to start calling the shots. As much as I feel sorry for her, there’s a limit…
I’m getting sidetracked.
We got off the train, and I started pulling the trump cards out of nowhere.
“Would you like to go to McDonalds for lunch?”
You should have seen her face. Anybody would think I had given her a golden ticket for Willy Wonka’s factory. In reality of course, I was playing the same game that countless parents have played over the years - heading off the wingeing and bellyaching before it even starts.
Next stop - spending her own money - was a trip to Build-a-Bear. After at least 20 seconds of grabbing, disuasion, and further grabbing at the nearest thing, I talked her into spending her money on something half-appropriate which she still thought was her own choice. We then of course were subjected to the “Build a Bear Birth”, where you have to rub a heart on your nose, your forehead, your chest, and god knows where else while some bored teenage girl repeats her script for the thousandth time that day.
Finally we made it to the Apple Store, and of course the best “in store” experience in town. Walk In, greeting from blue shirted helper, tell iPad genius what I want, box arrives, pay, leave. I did have a pretty comical conversation with the kid serving me though;
“Would you like me to show you how the iPad works?”
“No, you’re ok.”
“Do you want us to help you set the iPad up?”
“No, I can do that.”
“Oh.” (and he ran out of conversation right there).
I even grabbed his iPhone to type my own email address into the billing system.
So far (mid afternoon the next day) I’ve had about an hour to monkey with the iPad - most of which was spent installing apps that I already owned. Yes, the screen is nice, but I’m not altogether sure it’s worth the extra money. I’m guessing it’s like computing speed; you only notice when you go back.
At this point I’m just glad to have an iPad again - NoteShelf, and FlipBoard are game changing apps for me as a software developer and web designer who is often on the road.