Roughly six months ago, I bought a used iPod from my oldest daughter, who had saved up enough money for a new one. It’s nothing special, just a “mini” with 4 GB storage capacity.
I felt like I had moved into the 21st century, well at least I did for approximately four days. Then my middle daughter asked if she could borrow it for a trip she was taking. With that, the iPod was gone.
Over the following months, this daughter claimed not to know where the iPod was when I asked her about it, but I had scattered reports from other children that she had been seen with it on her person. In truth, I kind of forgot about the whole thing, as it was a minor incident. But I did ask on more than one occasion where it was, and again I received the “I don’t know” shrug.
Last week I got in our van to go to work, and there it was, on the floor between the front seats. When I got home, I told my daughter I had found the iPod and was looking forward to using it.
“Why?” she asked. “There’s nothing on there you would like.”
“Precisely,” I smiled. “I never got the chance to put anything I like on it.” And with that, I removed the playlists and put my own on. Frankly, I like my eclectic tastes better than her current fixation on cookie-cutter pseudo-Emo bands.
So, six months late, I’m in the 21st century now.