––––––––
“I’M BORROWING YOUR phone to text Elaine to say we’re heading to your house. My phone is buried somewhere in my purse. And I guess I should tell Elaine about Jack’s little accident. I hate to return him in worse shape than he was when he was dropped off,” fretted Myrtle.
Miles said, “I’m sure she’s used to it. Toddlers aren’t known for coordination and dexterity.”
“Neither are seniors,” grunted Myrtle as she tipped over her water reaching for Miles’s phone. “Can I not get a break from water today?” After quickly sopping up that spill she finally picked up his phone. And frowned. “What’s wrong with this thing?”
“Did it have water spilled on it?” asked Miles glumly.
“Not a drop. It’s turning on fine, but there isn’t an icon for texting,” said Myrtle, peering very hard at the ph
