When I upgraded my last phone contract, I got yet another Android. I love Android phones, but the bottom line is that I live my life by the structure of Mac computers. Androids are free-flowing, freebie loving, fully-customizable machines, but every single one I’ve had was wracked with multiple problems such as spontaneous rebooting that Verizon Wireless would never cop to as a problem even though the internet was flooded with responses about it.

As such, I ignorantly bought another phone I’d be unhappy with and then bought an iphone off of an online site. I could have sold the Android smartphone, but I’d be taking a huge loss. My other option was to give it to AJ, who was coveting it so much he looked like Mr. Burns or Gollam. I would not usually give an 11-year-old a smartphone, but I had no intention of giving him a data plan and figured he could use it to play draw something with me on the house wifi.

He was thrilled, as expected, and honestly that phone has saved us in many ways. He plays the games he can play offline on long car rides without getting bored the way he does on the DS. He listens to his music on it. He reads his kindle on it. Instead of packing a bag to go anywhere, he charges his phone and that’s it.

One of the unexpected free programs he found was “metal detector.” I know that program is cool because I played with it when I got the Android, too. He immediately went around our home searching the walls and floors and finding about $6.51 in change. He then asked Leon if he could go out in the backyard and search. Leon laughed and let him.

Everything was fine until the next day. AJ again asked if he could go out in the yard, this time the front yard, and search for metal. Leon, groggy from sleep, again said yes. I was still sleeping and had no idea what was happening. Later that day, I had to run errands and run to get mail from the box and almost twisted my ankle. There was a small hole in my yard.

What?

I looked around and counted 4 other holes.

I ran into the house yelling, “Leon! We must have moles in our yard. There are holes everywhere.” He was confused because we haven’t had moles since we lived in Arkansas. He sat there for a minute and began laughing hysterically. Through his tears I understood, “AJ. Metal detector. Front yard.”

I sat in solemn silence. Wrinkled my nose. And burst out laughing. The holes have since filled in, but he had to remove the app.

We’re thinking about getting him a “real” metal detector for Christmas. Our yard will never be the same.