I may be a complete idiot about some many things (technology, baking, driving, anything that involves a remote control), but I do have the occasional BRILLIANT idea.
A few weeks ago I finally tired of having the boys guess the password on my iPhone (by watching me type it in or by examining the fingerprints on the screen) in order to play whatever games they’d installed on it the last time they got on, or to tinker with the settings of my phone. (My auto-correct is a hot mess. 49 auto-corrects to the 49-ers, PM auto-corrects to Peyton Manning, and Efram auto-corrects to EframIsAwesome.)
For reasons that it hurts my head to think about, I know I cannot stop it from happening; but I CAN up the game ever so slightly.
Last week Bennett was stumped as he typed what he thought was the password. FAIL.
“What is it?” he asked, eyeing the phone for signs of fingerprints.
End of World War Two, I said. It took him a few seconds, but he got it.
I’m looking for suggestions. Feel free to chime in. (Next up: Battle of Hastings, Magna Carta, Year of Springsteen’s Birth.)