B and I came home from our date night to find our remote control wasn’t working. The power button was lit up, but it refused to do anything. I tried a few different things to fix it, but nothing worked. The cause of this sudden malfunction was a seemingly unsolvable mystery.
I spent about an hour this afternoon setting up the fancy new universal remote control – installing the software, checking for updates, entering the make and model of our modest collection of home entertainment devices, etc. Towards the end of the tedious process, I mentioned to the boys that we’d have to be careful not to drop this remote as it could break. This comment resulted in an interesting conversation…
A: “Yeah, I dropped the other remote lots of times.”
Me: “Really? When?
A: “Last night, when Grandma was here”
Me: “Why did you do that?”
A: “Well, I wanted to see where the batteries go. When I dropped it before the batteries came out, so I kept dropping it until they came out again.
Me: “Wow, how many times did you drop it?”
A: “I don’t know. A lot of times, I guess. They just wouldn’t come out, so I kept dropping it on the floor.”
I was more amused than angry. I could just picture him dropping the remote over and over again until finally the battery cover popped off – kind of like a Herring Gull dropping a clam on the rocks in an attempt to smash the shell and get to the juicy flesh inside.
I can’t wait until he tries the same trick with my laptop…