Ned Hibberd's Blog

The call came in the middle of the night.  The ringing telephone sounded far, far away as I struggled to shake off a deep slumber.

 

 

Once awake, I realized that the ring sounded distant...because it was.  The digital chirp was emanating from somewhere downstairs.

 

By the sound of it, I could tell the ringing was not my phone, nor my wife's.  Then it stopped, the house was quiet, and I allowed myself to slip back to sleep.

 

Cue the music from the movie "Groundhog Day."  Another night, another ringing telephone.  Lather, rinse, repeat.

 

I possess no super powers, but eventually I figured out the source of my nightly torment...

 

 

It was my 2 year old son's "Mr. Incredible" cell phone.  When new, it would emit its distinctive bleat only when it was flipped open or its buttons were pushed.

But one ill-advised foray into the shower changed everything.  Now, the phone rings without human intervention.  And it seems to prefer to release its inner demons not in the daytime, but in the deepest recesses of the night.

 

I ought to remove the batteries and give the phone a decent burial.  That would bring an end to my nocturnal misery.

 

But any parent could tell you the consequences of such an action: a phoneless and furious toddler!

 

Mankind's only hope?  Intervention by a superhero, like Mr. Incredible himself.

 

 

Now if only I could find his phone number...

Ned