This week, Tyler flicked on his computer like any other morning and found himself staring at a black monitor. And within hours, he learned just how much technology has taken its toll on his imagination.
After he carved a track around the house with his pacing, I logged into Amazon and ordered him a certain object of his desire, guaranteed to keep him busy (at least for a couple hours).
Today, I decided it was time to unleash the suspense.
“I got you a surprise,” I blurted out mid-pace. “I’m not going to tell you what it is. But it’s arriving by 9 p.m. tonight.”
Tyler was never one to wait patiently for surprises. After an exasperating bout of begging and pleading, he finally persuaded me to allow him three questions that had to be answered honestly. The only thing he couldn’t ask was what it was.
His first question was, “Is it technology-related?”
“Hell to the no,” was my quick reply. “That’s what gave you all these problems in the first place.”
Knowing he was now down to two questions, he thought them over carefully.
“What’s your Amazon password?” he asked with a crafty smile.
I told him, then added I was changing it immediately after our conversation. The smile dissipated.
He now had only one question left. I could practically hear the cogs between his ears whirling.
Suddenly, as if out of a poof of inspiration, he tapped his fingertips together evil-genius style and posed his final question.
“Does Grandma know what it is?”
Checkmate. Grandmas cave more quickly than a mobile home in a hurricane.