2:14 a.m. last night my phone pinged:
“Alert: Front door opened. Child detected.”
I sprinted downstairs in full dad-panic.
Found my 3-year-old halfway out the door in dinosaur pajamas, holding her stuffed giraffe, heading for “an adventure.”
The Samsung Ballie Pro (yes, the same $799 security ball) had rolled in front of the door, turned on its red strobing “angry eyes,” and was calmly saying:
“Ella, it is bedtime. Danger outside. Please return to bed. I have informed Daddy.”
She looked at it, looked at me running down the stairs in boxers, sighed the heaviest toddler sigh in history, and marched back to her room.
Ballie followed her the whole way, tucked her in, and played her lullaby playlist.
This morning she told the robot:
“You’re a mean snail.”
Ballie replied: “I am a good snail. I love you.”
I’m not crying, you’re crying.
The robot literally babysat better than I do.
(If your robot has ever snitched on your kid, you win parenting this week.)