DD2 ran up to me during the halftime show of tonight’s football game with a completely crazed look on her face. “I was watching the varsity pom girls dance, and I lost my phone somewhere on the sidelines!”
To understand the true nature of this crisis, one must understand that DD2 is in 7th grade. She lives to text. The concept of not having her phone, even for a little while was too horrible to even contemplate. Somehow my pointing out that we could suspend the service until we had a chance to see if anyone turned it in or as a worst case scenario she could use one of our old phones until she’d saved up enough to replace her phone did nothing to calm her down.
We looked on the sidelines. I mentioned the loss to the head trainer and to the assistant athletic director when I saw them. We checked the concession stands and the pressbox. No one had the phone.
Or actually, someone did have it, but they hadn’t turned it in. DD2 cried huge alligator tears. Tears that lead the high school principal to make a run down the sidelines and for the assistant principal, also the dad of DD2’s best friend, to put in several calls to her phone. Finally at the end of the game, someone answered. They didn’t speak, but we could hear a television and a group of people in the background.
At that point, Mr. V and I went into full principal mode. I haven’t used those investigative skills in a while, but I was pleased to find they aren’t rusty. We identified three places on campus the cell phone could be: locker room, training room, or booster club reception. Mr. V checked out the locker room with no success, so we quickly checked the training room and booster club reception, located in the same building. I knew DD2 was desperate when she took me up on my suggestion that she move from table to table at the reception asking the football boys if they’d found a phone.
Just then, Mr. V’s continued calling of the phone ended in success. Someone answered and actually spoke to him, admitting that they had the phone in the band room. One of the members must have picked it up off the sidelines when they were waiting to perform and then ditched it when we kept calling. I’m sure the student who answered it was surprised to hear, “This is Mr. V. I am coming to get the phone. Find Mr. H, the band director, and give the phone to him. I will be there immediately to pick it up.”
As we rounded the corner to the band room, my phone rang. It was the student who reported that he couldn’t find the band director but that he called the “Mom” number on the phone. I told him we were walking in at that moment and then spotted him just as he spotted me and Mr. V. We thanked him for returning the phone, and I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to hold DD2 back from kissing either him or the phone when she finally had it back in her hands.
While I know she did not find the incident even remotely humorous, it’s one I will not soon forget. I’m just thankful we found her phone. And if this attachment doesn’t get better in the near future, I’m afraid I’ll have to find her a group of some sort. “Hello, my name is DD2 and I’m addicted to texting!”
On another note, though, it was an absolutely beautiful night for football, a little breezy with a hint of fall in the air, and this view as the game began. I like to call it, “Sunset Over Football Fans”!