reminded me of something remarkable: my 20-month-old son has become proficient in manipulating the photo display feature of my iPhone. He is an electronics enthusiast -- we've had to resort to using a laundry pin to secure the doors of the armoire holding our video and stereo components -- but he figured out the iPhone's touchscreen interface pretty much instantly. In fact, any time he sees another screen, especially a small one like that on the back of a digital camera, he puts a finger on the screen and tries to flick it to the next picture. If that doesn't work, he puts the camera to his ear and listens intently for the voice on the other end of what must surely be a phone call.
Buttons are interesting to him, and he'll figure out what they do, (oh yes he will, and don't think you can distract him once he's started the figuring-out process) but you can see that using a button to get something done seems like a whole unnecessary step in his mind.
Anyway, it occurred to me yesterday that he will remember the iPhone the way I think of the 8-track tape player: it was good enough in its time to be remembered, just good enough to be the punch line of a joke about old technology.
After two weeks of not being connected to the Web for most of the day, I returned to work and noticed that something was missing: my Facebook addiction. It may be just a phase, and I still get notified when people send FBmail, but for some reason I'll try to figure out, I'm not drawn to it the way I was in 2007.