High-value commodities, and the mania they inspire

The boys are all too familiar with my draconian computer policies.

For whatever reason,  I have the idea that one can learn and discover all kinds of very bad things on the Internet without even really trying - not to mention the learning capacity of a determine adventurist - and so I rather seldom let Ian go on the Internet - and hence on my computer - unless I anticipate being nearby, and usually under somewhat circumscribed conditions.

Unfortunately, Daniel is learning about this global tool of excellence for our rapidly-evolving paradigm of international community, and now he wants to get on my laptop as well.  Moreover, Ian is already something of a pro - particularly with Google  Chrome; for example, if he wants to show me a website he has recently visited, he'll simply bring up the History feature and select the site from  his History content.  I certainly never taught him that.  My machine is running Ubuntu, rather than Windows, but Ian still knows his way around somewhat, without any introduction.  So I get pretty stubborn when I don't want them on my machine.  To top it all off, I won't let them go on my work computer; they don't know the password, and that's the way we want to keep things.

But very unfortunately, my own Ubuntu-based laptop doesn't require a password when you log in -only when you want to pull the machine out of "Sleep" mode.  I don't know what I was thinking when I configured my OS that way - I wanted it to be easier for me, but I hadn't factored in the realty that easy means hard, when we're talking about children having easy access to my machine.  In fact, if the machine has gone into sleep mode, from extended non-use, the children can just reboot the box, and since initial login doesn't require credentials, they'll get through every time.

So Thursday morning, as I was getting ready to go to work, Daniel came across my work laptop, which is of no value to him, since he doesn't know the password, and carried it over to me to ask if we could "trade" - if I could give him my personal, no-password-required laptop in "exchange" for the one he was (barely) holding in his arms.  I didn't take him up on this offer, and he quickly became agitated.  I put my personal laptop in the trunk of my car, to put it out of reach of Daniel, and quickly got back to the business of preparing f or the upcoming day.  However, since I didn't know that Daniel was aware of this new location for my laptop, I didn't take any precautions - such as locking the car doors - and in short order, I came upon a triumphant, grinning Daniel booting up my laptop at the dining room table, having liberated it from my car trunk (and leaving the trunk open).

I immediately moved the laptop back to my car, and this time locked the door and kept the car keys on my person.  This guaranteed that Daniel wouldn't be able to get to my laptop, unless he's better at breaking glass than I might have thought.  Apparently Daniel recognized this new limitation, and actually didn't like it very much, because I suddenly found myself locked out of the house, on the way back from my car, with Daniel practically dancing with delight on the other side of the locked screen door.   Yes - he locked me out of my own house, to punish me for putting my laptop out of his reach.

At that point, reason fled.  I gritted my teeth and pulled at the screen door until it more-or-less broke open.  Daniel was traumatized  by this new moment of "empowerment," and was still upset when I
left for work.

When I got home in the evening, Daniel came into the dining room, and grinned sunnily when he saw me, as is his wont, and then apparently remembered that he was supposed to be angry at me, and quickly got into "character," as they say in the world of drama, contorting his face into a grimace of rage.  Then he said something like, "This morning didn't go very well."

I concurred:  "I agree.  I was locked out of my own house.  And by the way, you're never doing that again - locking me out  of my own house - do you understand?"  Sometimes aggression is the best antidote to aggression.

He collapsed into a tearful singsong mourning voice, his face now contorted again, this time into the     clench of pre-weeping, as he pronounced, "Yesss, Daddy."

Soon after this encounter, Ian found me and launched into his standard lobbying effort to get access to my laptop, which almost  always bears no fruit.  I decided to exploit the recent exchange with Daniel as a "teaching moment," and told Ian that right now, I'm starting to feel like my laptop is this dangerous thing that makes people crazy.  But Ian readily put the matter into historical perspective, without a trace of humor or irony:

"Actually, Daddy, just so you know, he behaves crazy usually."

(July 6, 2012)