I have a cell phone, given to me by my mother last year for Christmas. I hardly ever use it, partly because cell phone plans here in Canada are rubbish, but also because I rarely think to use it. It sits there, in my purse, beeping in the middle of night when it needs charging (causing me to stagger around in the dark trying to find it while listening to Richard say things like "Why do you have that stupid thing, all it ever does is beep in the middle of the $#@%ing night!"). We really only use it for Calls of Great Excitement ("Richard! I found a multigraft pear! I'm going to buy it! Gosh! Of all the luck!").
Conversely, Max likes to call me on that same cell phone when he's in a moment of Great Excitement, like the time someone we all dread having visit us visited us when I was having a drink with a friend in town. He hid in a closet and whispered all the details to me, while Richard dealt with this person. It was fun and silly, although the friend I was having the drink with was mystified ("He called you to tell you that someone you all dread was at your house? Huh? How is that funny?"). I felt slightly too embarrassed to tell her that having kids was fun that way: they can be like having a personal secret agent. Me, I like having a personal secret agent. I find out a lot of interesting information that way.
So it was that I had a call from Max, on my cell phone, the other day, to tell me that he had landed his Air Hog Havoc Heli on the blade of the ceiling fan in the Family Room, just like he'd seen it done on a YouTube video his dad had found during the Christmas holidays. He left it there until I came home, so I too could be shocked and amazed at his navigating prowess. I took a picture to commemorate the moment. Well, and so I could post it on my blog, because that's one of the first things Max said: "You can take a picture and put it on your blog!"
So here it is.