I’m still pregnant. Very pregnant. And tired. Which means I’m getting more and more delighted when Ezra will spend thirty minutes tapping away at my iPhone rather than demanding endless loops of Dr. Seuss books alternating with his new favorite, Five Little Gefiltes (though his version of Mama Gefilte’s cry of “Oy Vey!” is insanely adorable. “OH DAAAAAAYYYY.”)
While Sandy’s phone is packed with interactive kid’s games for him, I’m a bit disorganized about downloading that stuff and only have a few, so he spends a lot of time on my phone just exploring and crank calling Claire and my mom. He also takes a lot of photos. They all look like this, and he has taken over 200 of them:
The other day I looked over his shoulder to see what had him enraptured, and found him looking at this:
It took me a while to track down how my son had found a treasure trove of 1930s beefcake photos, but research revealed that he had navigated through three or four layers in my IMDB app before finding the monkey he was searching for.
Though I joke about using the phone as a way to keep him occupied so I can do other stuff, it’s actually an amazing series of skills he’s already built up in order to be able to do all these things on this tiny little machine. Skills I barely have now, that he’ll never remember not having. Right now it’s a novelty for him to just find his way around. Soon, no doubt, he’ll be using it to draw, record, photograph (intentionally), document, etc. Soon, he’ll be teaching me how the damn thing works.