Grumpy about the iPad mini

In a fey moment, Anthony and I decided to get the kids iPad minis for Christmas. We should have given them pajamas and socks instead. There would have been more collective joy in the long run.

Since 12/25/2013 I’ve been listening to a constant refrain of “can I play with my iPad?”, like the buzzing noise of plague locusts. Then there are constant demands for help, incessant requests for new games, and a lot of bitching about game results.

The iPad minis also generate some quiet moments for me, which I treasure and NEED. So it’s really my fault, because I say yes to their use much more than I should. So sue me.

It took just 6 weeks for Jesse to break hers, via a series of temper tantrums over whatever thing was bothering her, as well as a Tourette’s-ian need to drop the device experimentally onto any hard surface that presented itself to her attention. That test protocol achieved expected results when Jesse discovered last night that the screen is cracked all over. Then she performed a separate empirical test of how much emotional melting-down and ululating I can tolerate without turning into a yeti. A lot, apparently, but not as much as she wanted.

I tried explaining the cost of these devices, but my kids rarely see cash in this age of debit cards, so they can’t evaluate relative quantity as viscerally as I got to as a kid. I don’t have a stack of twenties sitting around. I also tried the food comparison perspective. (One iPad mini) + (1 failed safety cover) = (2 weeks of food for our entire family). EVEN THOUGH I SHOP AT WHOLE FOODS.

That emphatic closer, which I thought was compelling, got me nothing. Jesse gave me a teenage “whatever” glare. I think all Nick heard was a Peanuts adult (wa-wah, wa-wah).

I went to the Apple Store this morning and discovered that iPad mini screens won’t be repaired by Apple because they’re so fully integrated. All I can do is buy a replacement from Apple at cost for about 200 bucks or try to find some third party willing to take my money for a maybe-destroy-the-iPad repair attempt.

“Are you kidding me??” I snapped at poor J.J. from the Genius Bar. He didn’t look like a genius to me. I glared at him as his eyes wandered innocently around the store, la la la, but I didn’t curse even once. Good Carla, good. Bad Apple, bad.

I huddled with Anthony afterwards and he authorized me to make the following offer to Jesse: You can have a replacement iPad mini, or you can have a big birthday party this year, but not both.

I’m hoping desperately that she chooses the party, because then I don’t have to deal with this shit anymore. I’m also hoping desperately that she chooses the iPad mini, because then I don’t have to go through the hassle of putting on a big party.

Either way, I’m probably f#*%ed.

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