Ainslie Paton romance author

My Mother – The Ungifter

The background:  Mum’s computer carked.  I thought she might like a tablet better since she mostly only used the pc for internet searches, ordering her kindle books (crime – all crime) and email. We bought her one and I set it up.

It took a lot of coaching and fiddling with the set up to get it to her liking.  A lot of going over there to find the things she’s swiped off the home screen.  Her swipe action is best envisaged as orchestra conducting, it’s a full body experience.

So far so good.

A month later:

Mum:    I think I want a new computer.

Me:        Are you using your tablet?

Mum:    Hmm, yes.

Me:        What?

Mum:    I’m not a tablet kind of person.

Me:        What’s a tablet kind of person?

Mum:    Not me.  I don’t like it.  I keep losing things on it and everything spins around.

We buy her a computer and that takes a lot of coaching because it’s an all new operating system.  A lot of coaching.

Bonus:  I end up with her tablet.  It goes like this.

Mum:    You might as well have that.

Me:        Only when we’re sure you really don’t want it.

Mum:    I don’t.  It was a mistake.

Me:        We’ll wait and see.

Mum:    No, take it.  I don’t want it. I’ll never use it again.

Me:        Are you sure?  It would be mine, then, right?  I’d put my stuff on it.

Mum:    Positive.

Me:        It took a lot of fiddling to get it how you like it.  I don’t want to have to do it again.

Mum:    I’m sure.  Take the damn thing.  I never want to see it again.

A month later:

I wait a month just to be sure, to be sure, to be sure.

Eight months later:

Mum:    I’d like my tablet back.

Me:        Very funny.

Mum:    That wasn’t a joke.

Me:        You gave it to me. Said you never wanted to see it again.

Mum:    I’m ungiving it to you.

Me:        No. Remember how I said it was a pain to get it set up for you and I didn’t want to have to do it again.

Mum:    It wasn’t that much of a pain.

Me:       That was a joke.  It wasn’t a pain to you. Remember how you kept losing things on it and I’d have to come and find them for you.

Mum:    That was funny.

Me:        Not to me.

Mum:    Doesn’t matter I want it back now.

Me:        You didn’t like touching the screen.

Mum:    No, not much.

Me:        So what are going to do with it, that you can’t do with your pc.

Mum:    Touch the screen a lot.

Me:        Seriously, you didn’t like it. You didn’t use it, but you want it back.

Mum:    Now you’re getting it.

Factory Reset.  And another lost weekend on parental tech support here we come.

Hello, what are you thinking?

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