Maya was about to turn 13, and for her pre-party, had launched a campaign to upgrade to a smart phone – an iphone 5C, to be exact. She had taped posters with the oh-so-subtle “iPhone 5C” in 124 point font on our bathroom mirrors, on the bedroom walls, on the stove backsplash, in our underwear drawers. Until now, she had a phone that allowed her to write texts, but it delivered them only when it was in the mood. It could take pictures, but refused to send them (yes, even with a data plan). Sometimes it just took a day off from work. It wasn’t all bad though – the thing was built like a brick, and the battery lasted forever.
We had been resisting the conversion, Continue reading