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I once lived with a relative of mine for three months.
Her toddler had this tendency of touching and scattering things in the house—especially phones.
You know the way kids are obssessed with one thing and love to play with and scatter that thing. Ehn ehn.
“Aunty, your boy will scatter this phone with the way he’s playing with it.”
“I don tire. I have had to change my screen twice already cus all he does is hit the phone.”
“Just keep it away from him then or get him a toy phone to play with.”
“Ah, e go begin cry oo. E go cry scatter everywhere.”
“Lmao. Okay.”
I got the phone from him. And truly, he started crying. He cried so much, the mother begged me to please just give it to him. That he won’t stop.
“That’s not true. He’d stop when he’s satisfied.”
He cried for a few more minutes and after a while, he slept off. I took him to his room and laid him to sleep.
The next day, he crawled his way to his mum’s phone again. I calmly took it off him and told him
“Don’t touch it. It’ll bite you.”
Continued for a few more days of scolding, restricting, a soft pinch, and a little more tears, he finally got the message.
All devices that look like phone are no go areas.
Something funny happened when his dad returned. He was carrying the little boy and holding his phone and the boy was just fixated on fiddling his dad’s shirt.
He told his wife, “be like say bobo no like phone again ooo.”
“Na my brother oo(referring to me). No be small fight with two of them.”🤣
The man didn’t believe his eyes. Mentioned how he’d cry and cry and cry when they take phones off him. Showed me a huge crack on his own screen and said it was the son.
“Well he did cry and cry. I just didn’t fall for it.”
But but but yesterday I was told
“It’s like you don’t know how destructive these toddlers can be.”
Oh, I know how they can be. But I also know you aren’t doing a good job if they keep destroying stuff in the home again and again.
They are kids. You are adult. Your kids should not be dictating things for you. You’ll be treating children like they are lifeless dolls who should not be taught or scolded and come and tell me
“You don’t know how kids can be.”
Oh, I do, my dear. I used to be a teacher. I was responsible for a lot of people’s kids.
Do your damn jobbbbb!!! You have a duty to train your kids to not be destructive. Cus best believe if your ward destroys my stuff, you’ll replace it asap.
Her toddler had this tendency of touching and scattering things in the house—especially phones.
You know the way kids are obssessed with one thing and love to play with and scatter that thing. Ehn ehn.
“Aunty, your boy will scatter this phone with the way he’s playing with it.”
“I don tire. I have had to change my screen twice already cus all he does is hit the phone.”
“Just keep it away from him then or get him a toy phone to play with.”
“Ah, e go begin cry oo. E go cry scatter everywhere.”
“Lmao. Okay.”
I got the phone from him. And truly, he started crying. He cried so much, the mother begged me to please just give it to him. That he won’t stop.
“That’s not true. He’d stop when he’s satisfied.”
He cried for a few more minutes and after a while, he slept off. I took him to his room and laid him to sleep.
The next day, he crawled his way to his mum’s phone again. I calmly took it off him and told him
“Don’t touch it. It’ll bite you.”
Continued for a few more days of scolding, restricting, a soft pinch, and a little more tears, he finally got the message.
All devices that look like phone are no go areas.
Something funny happened when his dad returned. He was carrying the little boy and holding his phone and the boy was just fixated on fiddling his dad’s shirt.
He told his wife, “be like say bobo no like phone again ooo.”
“Na my brother oo(referring to me). No be small fight with two of them.”🤣
The man didn’t believe his eyes. Mentioned how he’d cry and cry and cry when they take phones off him. Showed me a huge crack on his own screen and said it was the son.
“Well he did cry and cry. I just didn’t fall for it.”
But but but yesterday I was told
“It’s like you don’t know how destructive these toddlers can be.”
Oh, I know how they can be. But I also know you aren’t doing a good job if they keep destroying stuff in the home again and again.
They are kids. You are adult. Your kids should not be dictating things for you. You’ll be treating children like they are lifeless dolls who should not be taught or scolded and come and tell me
“You don’t know how kids can be.”
Oh, I do, my dear. I used to be a teacher. I was responsible for a lot of people’s kids.
Do your damn jobbbbb!!! You have a duty to train your kids to not be destructive. Cus best believe if your ward destroys my stuff, you’ll replace it asap.
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7 reactions
"Back in the Day…"
If your neighbor owned a television, it automatically became the community center. That living room would turn into a stadium, a cinema, and sometimes even a United Nations meeting point.
By 6:30 p.m. , every child on the street had gathered. Some squatted by the window like soldiers spying on the enemy, while others perched on stools, holding onto the wall as if their parents built it. You’d hear whispers:
“Shhh… the movie has started.”
Meanwhile, one stubborn child would always complain, “Please move a bit, your head is blocking the TV!”
The television itself was rarely clear — the picture shook like an old man’s hands, and sometimes it turned black and white like an obituary poster. If it started to rain, that was another problem entirely.
Someone had to perform what we called a “human sacrifice” — usually a small child standing on a chair, holding the antenna in midair until the movie ended. And if you were unlucky enough to be sent to buy petrol for the generator, you could forget about seeing the first half of the film.
The real heartbreak came when NEPA cut the power right in the middle of a Jackie Chan or Jet Li fight scene. The whole place would go silent for a few seconds, then you’d hear one mother shout from the kitchen:
“All of you, pack your things and go home before I pour water on your heads!”
Within seconds, everyone scattered like cockroaches caught in flashlight beams.
Those were simpler, happier times — better than Netflix. No data, no subscription — just laughter, sweat, and that one kid who always blocked the TV with his big head.
We didn’t have remote controls, but we had remote friendships.
If your neighbor owned a television, it automatically became the community center. That living room would turn into a stadium, a cinema, and sometimes even a United Nations meeting point.
By 6:30 p.m. , every child on the street had gathered. Some squatted by the window like soldiers spying on the enemy, while others perched on stools, holding onto the wall as if their parents built it. You’d hear whispers:
“Shhh… the movie has started.”
Meanwhile, one stubborn child would always complain, “Please move a bit, your head is blocking the TV!”
The television itself was rarely clear — the picture shook like an old man’s hands, and sometimes it turned black and white like an obituary poster. If it started to rain, that was another problem entirely.
Someone had to perform what we called a “human sacrifice” — usually a small child standing on a chair, holding the antenna in midair until the movie ended. And if you were unlucky enough to be sent to buy petrol for the generator, you could forget about seeing the first half of the film.
The real heartbreak came when NEPA cut the power right in the middle of a Jackie Chan or Jet Li fight scene. The whole place would go silent for a few seconds, then you’d hear one mother shout from the kitchen:
“All of you, pack your things and go home before I pour water on your heads!”
Within seconds, everyone scattered like cockroaches caught in flashlight beams.
Those were simpler, happier times — better than Netflix. No data, no subscription — just laughter, sweat, and that one kid who always blocked the TV with his big head.
We didn’t have remote controls, but we had remote friendships.
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