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Tales From the City

Apple's long reach

September 11, 2011

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I was driving through Harvard Square with my 7-year-old son one morning recently. I was in a hurry, and there was lots of construction, yet he was happily, quietly chatting away in the back seat. Suddenly

I heard him say: “Oh my God, Mom, iPhone has taken over everything! Now there is a restaurant called iHop!”

Monica Young Goldfinger / Lexington

A little sarcasm with your directions, ma’am?

New in town, I got confused coming from the Downtown Crossing T exit; no Washington Street signs in sight. To my relief, on the corner was an imposing police officer. “Is this Washington?” I inquired. “No,” he barked, “this is Boston!” His hearty laugh made my day. I hope it made his.

Beverly E. Williams/ /Arlington

How’d they do it?

We have two foster children staying with us, both girls. On a recent morning, when they came down for breakfast, we were listening to the news that the Red Sox had won the night before. The 7-year-old said: “The Red Sox won last night?” I replied that yes, they had won. The 5-year-old then asked, “Did the Yankees win?” I told her the Yankees had also won. She thought about this for a minute and then asked, “Did they cheat?”

Steve (and Michelle) O’Leary / Leominster

Special delivery

The morning of my 44th birthday, my daughters, Anna and Jenna (10 and 7, respectively), offered to walk to a bakery to get coffee for my wife and me as a special birthday treat. On the way home, Anna dropped one of the hot cups, and the girls went back to the bakery and purchased another coffee. As they struggled again with the hot cups, a woman approached and offered to carry the coffee – all the way to the house. Thank you, mystery coffee lady! And thank you to my beautiful girls.

Mike Vardaro / Dorchester

At least he has a coach in the family

As the co-coach of my 4-year-old’s T-ball team, I wanted to be sure he had a good understanding of baseball before the first game. In our backyard we simulated a hit, and as we got to first, second, and third base, I named each one. When I said, “This is home,” my son pointed to our house and replied, “No, Daddy, that’s home!” To top it off, at the game, after his first hit, he ran to the unoccupied pitcher’s mound to retrieve his own ball.

Paul Graf / Quincy

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