The Old Password

I had a password for my Apple ID that was six characters long.   It was easy to remember and could be typed in quickly.   I’d had that password from the first time I got an Apple iPhone model 3GS, which was the second iPhone Apple ever came out with. 

From time to time things would happen either on iTunes or in getting a new phone and Apple would suggest I change my password to something much longer with a capital and numeric.   Only I didn’t want to change my password—I liked it the way it was.  

Apple got more insistent over time, suggesting I really should change my password.   They were so certain I needed to do this that I couldn’t do some things unless I agreed on a password change.   But I’m stubborn.  I decided I didn’t want to do those things badly enough and I think in a way it caused me to hunker down, ready for a fight to keep the insecure, out-of-date password the way it was.

I’m not sure why I was fighting the change so hard.   At this point my iPhone uses facial recognition for the password and my iPad and Mac use my fingerprint.  It is rare that I ever have to enter my password.  So I gave in.   

This goes back to Uncle Bob and Uncle Brian getting married and deciding to store all my photos in iCloud.   So far I haven’t had to enter the password once, even though I’ve done a lot of things that have needed it.   Apple ended the fight pretty much by making knowing the password something I rarely have to do.   I don’t even remember what it is come to think of it.  I wonder how long it’ll be before I have to look it up?

The Big Boy Update:  I came home from puppy training class to have my son tell me I had a present. When I asked what it was he told me I had four wishes.   I said I was pretty excited about that but that I was running off to a cookie swap at a neighbor’s house.   He asked me if I wanted to use one of the wishes before going.   I thought about it and said I wished I would come home with lots of delicious cookies.   And it turns out I did.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  My daughter excitedly told me she had a present for me this afternoon.   I had to close my eyes and come into the dining room.   When I arrived she told me to look at the three small bins of dog treats and chewable.   She proudly took off the lid on the first one and told me she’d organized all the bones.   How did she know that’s just the kind of present I love, I asked her?