Hello, Cellular Phone?

In a recent press release, French Health Minister Roselyne Bachelot has made his concerns over the use of cellular public and urged parents to limit use, and reduce children’s telephone calls to no more than six minutes. Six minutes!

 

Although there’s no specific evidence to its threat, all the same, this tidbit is fodder to my paranoid self. Perfect excuse to not want to know or read anything at all.

 

Okay. I do share his concern on the use of cellular phones, especially with children. I’ve always been concerned. I even wrote something about it. I’ll pretend you’re interested (please, humor me), so here’s an excerpt.

 

… I’m really not so keen on letting Matt use my mobile phone. Any cellphone, for that matter. I don’t completely trust its safety, radiation-wise. No matter how much I try to be all-accepting, all-believing, there’s just this niggling doubt that refuses to get squashed. Maybe I’m the only one who works in the telecoms who is cagey on letting her kid use a cellphone. I’m cagey, I’m crazy, I’m wary. Maybe I am overly, overly, overly cautious. No. not maybe. I AM overly, overly, overly cautious. I’m crazy, I know. It’s okay if it’s me, but not if it’s my son. Don’t ask me why. For someone who works under radiating microwaves 8 hours a day, 5 days a week. It’s funny. I’m funny. Certainly ridiculous.

 

But while I share Bachelot’s principle of precaution, I’m not so immune to my toddler’s advances to speak with his father over the phone. Nor could I begin to explain the 6-minute limit. He doesn’t even know what minute means but he does know how to count up to 10. And beg. And negotiate starting with the hold-only-please plea.

 

About Author

Living somewhere in the tropics, I have sentenced myself to mind-time-word consuming and rigid finger-exercise otherwise known as blogging. Unknowingly from the start. Now it has become an addiction. So now, I am not only an old-fashioned mother, a trying-hard sweet wife, a silly telco engineer and patient housemaid but a trying-hard-to-sound-smart blogger as well. Call me Mama Meji. And I am blogging about nonsense a-n-y-t-h-i-n-g. Thanks for paying a visit. I’ll sure return the favor but if I cannot do so the soonest, just think that I’m still doing what I can with a week-old laundry. Or I’m still trying to break free from my son’s and/or my sweet hub tight embrace and dodge wet kisses. Or the aliens have abducted and kept me from romancing the keyboards. To find out about these aliens, you may email me at zamejias [-at-] makimeji [-dot-] com.