Since Sunday, not once have I had to find a missing charge cord, enter a new WIFI passcode, referee a mother-daughter “discussion” about Instagram or scour every nook and cranny in this house to find that missing phone. Not once.
“How is this so,” you might ask?
Our two oldest children (Ella Reaves, 12, and Harry, 10) are at Camp Sea Gull and Camp Seafarer unplugged and without a coveted iPhone. (Cue the blood curdling scream.)
Yes, it’s true. And you know what? They’re doing just fine.