emerging technology

So the kids each got netbooks from their Nana for Christmas this year. We all agreed that they were ready, more or less responsible, and would enjoy having their very own computers. At the very least, it would help ensure that our MacBooks did not suffer a disastrous fate in their little hands.

Make no mistake, I am a huge fan of Apple products and I have neither the time nor the patience for anything Windows. In my mind, Windows equates to work and toil. Apple products are like a friend, someone you look forward to hanging out with. But these netbooks were impossibly inexpensive compared to anything equivalent in the Apple world, so it made sense to suck it up and deal with Windows for the affordability.

Out of the box, these sleek little machines proved to be adversarial. We plugged them in, turned them on, and I was immediately filled with anxiety. All of the gyrations required with a new Windows machine nearly sent me to the bar for shots of anything containing alcohol. The amount of promotional, trial, and unnecessary software loaded on these things was simply overwhelming and actually caused some system drain even though they were brand new. Killing alerts, tool bars, and pop-ups became a game of whack-a-mole.

Eventually, I achieved a fair degree of success to the degree that the kids are now able to actually turn on the computers and not have to go find something to do in the time it takes for them to boot up. It all happens now with amazing proficiency somewhere within 20 minutes or so. Once booted though, they run great.

Perhaps against my better judgment, I decided to set them both up with Gmail accounts. I thought it would be fun for them to be able to receive email from us while at work, or send them photos of kitties, or race cars, or influential figures throughout history. I thought perhaps having their own email access would encourage them to start writing more and better understand how words go together to form sentences, and how sentences become thoughts. It would no doubt make them think they are cool.

Eagerly, I sent my son (age 6) an email from work one day. “Hey buddy! Have a great day!” I wrote, imagining how special he would feel receiving a note from his dad. I couldn’t wait to get home to show him how to pull up the note so he could read it.

I raced home that day, had him start up his computer, and showed him his Gmail inbox. He thought that was pretty cool. What was even cooler though, was when his sister (age 8) showed him how to reply. “Dad! I sent you a reply!” he shouted. “Oh, ok, buddy, I will see it when I get to work in the morning! Can’t wait!”

So I got to the office the next day, raced up the stairs and signed in. I pulled up my email to see what he wrote.

His reply? None other than the underlying timeless gold standard of male comedy.

It said simply, “poop”.