Do You Hear What I Hear?

Way back in 2007, my husband decided that he wanted an iPhone.  I distinctly remember chastising him for his selection, because we had a computer that could email and access the internet, so why would he possibly need another device? 

I was mistaken.  (But we can keep that between us, okay?)  I did not realize the small device's potential for maintaining my sanity, and I certainly did not anticipate the way I'd keep it tucked close to me the same way I stow garlic to shoo away my children when they fall into a supernatural temper-tantrum.

Five years later, I led the charge for a family-wide upgrade to the iPhone 5 so that I wouldn't have to worry about any more dropped calls or inexplicable app purchases.  Just yesterday, after getting to know my phone for more than two months, a potentially strange conversation with Cael prompted me to investigate some of the features that my new phone provides. 

When I am in the car and my boys begin to say something funny, something strange, or even if I simply want to forever remember a quiet moment so that I can revisit it later when Graham is flushing the contents of my purse down the toilet and Cael is scaling the Christmas tree, I make a video on my phone and transcribe it later to share with the rest of you.  But when Cael began telling me about an item he is hoping to receive for Christmas, I had a brilliant idea.

Siri, can you help me?

I opened my "notes" app, clicked on the microphone button, and sat back in the driver's seat as Siri recorded and typed up my Christmas conversation with Cael, thus saving me an immeasurable amount of time that could be better spent plunging the toilet or straightening the tree.  I left one hand on the wheel and used the other to pat myself on the back for being so awesome.



Siri wasn't feeling so awesome, however.  A conversation about an attachment for the boys' Gator devolved from coherent English into this.

"Hey mommy, can we go the cocaine store?"

"What you need to start?"

"I want to get one of those big boat train boat airplane Bohlsen that hooks onto my Gaidar."

"At the airport notes on your gator?"

"Yeah, it has books and it has a role in the Ropin that the hook on the back of the theater.  And it will pull the ball around in the backyard Burmaster's grass water but Abu Dhabi airport." 

"But in the butt about airplane thing won't need water.  Well, if you think you want that you can put it on your Christianity list, but I'm telling you dude, I don't think they make anything like that even at the north iPhone."

"The degenerates if you can make it because he knows that I've been a good boy and see if he can just meet for me because he knows that applesauce."

"You think you've been a really good boy chute like today?"

"Even Jupin really cool I think I was a good boy Algonquin."

"And you think that's granite enough for Santa-- to be good a while ago?"

"I think it's good enough for bullshit train."



Clearly, those weren't the results I was hoping for.  But that's the thing about making a "Christianity list"... we don't know what we'll actually receive, but we can always have hope.

This year, I hope Cael isn't disappointed when he doesn't receive a "bullshit train", and I hope that Siri gets the help she so desperately needs.