Tag Archives: kids and iPads

Internet Scam Warning: Son2’s £280 iTunes bill

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Parents Beware: My app-ortunistic son managed to innocently purchase adds-on to his FREE game without a password – arrrrghhh!

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Hungry Shark Evolution: There was no indication in the game that he was being charged for any of the clicks

It’s a Dubai problem, I know, but due to our compound pool springing a leak (think: standing in the middle literally paddling) the facility closed just after the Easter school holiday started, and is due to reopen the day after the kids go back.

Timing, eh!

To be honest, my boys weren’t too concerned: they just got busy doing the thing they do best – leaving their smeary fingerprints all over their iPads. Which was all very well until I got an email from my mum saying she’d been contacted by Barclaycard Fraud Squad.

I should explain: my boys and my mother share an iTunes account; it’s her credit card that gets billed. I’m the gatekeeper and my mum is in the lucky position of receiving, overnight, any apps we download. Son2 is convinced that his grandmother must LOVE playing with his Lego Batman app over her cornflakes.

In her email, my mum asked: “Have the boys sussed the password?” The fraud squad were querying two items from iTunes: one to Hungry Shark (Son2’s favourite game this week) for £79.99 and another for £39.99.

A cacophony of alarm bells clashed horribly in my head.

I questioned Son2 immediately. What’s the password, I asked? A tiny, thin line appeared between his eyebrows.

“Is it L – A …” His voice trailed off, and I could tell that was all he knew.

“We know your phone password, Mum,” interrupted Son1, “because you say it when you type it in.”

“OK, something’s not right here,” I said, blowing the air from my cheeks and making a mental note to myself: Change phone password and don’t absentmindedly tell them this time.

Within minutes, the extent of the strange Hungry Shark charges had got worse: there were TWO payments of £79.99 that day, and one of £39.99, plus another £79.99 on 29 March, and I was still questioning Son2 as to how the hell this had happened.

I watched as his face quickly ran through a gamut of emotions, the initial denial giving way first to guilt – Am I in deep trouble? – and then to indignance. His eyes darted round the room as Son1 helpfully mentioned that his brother had indeed acquired every single shark in the sea: magalodon; hammerhead; mako.

“But how?” I asked.

Son2 shrugged. “I clicked on 20 gems, and it gave me 2,000,” he said quietly, and then burst into loud, upset tears.

And, you know what, as I hadn’t put the password in for him, and I’d confirmed he didn’t know it, the damn game must have racked up that bill all by itself, whether due to a scam or a bug. £279.96! Wtf?

The good news is iTunes refunded the lot (three cheers to Apple!) and Son2 is now the envy of all his wide-eyed friends for having got to the highest level of the game, with the highest number of sharks.

But you can imagine my horror, when the next morning Son1, ever the tittle-tattle, told me: “Guess what Mum!” He grinned widely. “… All his sharks have had babies!”

TIP: Go to Settings, iTunes & App Store, Password Settings and Always Require should be ticked. (Do it now! Son2’s iPad was already set up like this, so we’ve still no idea what happened…sigh!)

App-ortunistic Son 2

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I realise that in posting this, it’s going to sound like my children spend their whole time playing on electronic gadgets. I do force them to do other stuff too, like outings, homework and eating.

But, let’s face it, the iPad does have its uses, especially during those times when you need to get things done, like make dinner or drive.

Son 1 even takes his to school now, as part of their bring-your-own-device (BYOD) scheme. “We do research on it, Mum!” he claims. “I only use Safari.”

Just recently, Son 2’s use of the iPad has started causing me some concern, though. He’s begun collecting apps – anything from Lego apps to airplane simulators. He, somehow, knows how to find these apps (he’s only 5!), and can get as far as the password prompt.

He then cajoles me into putting the password in (he’s only allowed the free apps), and Bob’s your uncle, it starts downloading. Except he’s become very app-happy, and can’t stop at just one or two. He’s bugging me continually about new apps, to the point that it’s driving me crazy.

“Let’s go for a bike ride,” I suggest. “Your iPad will run out of memory. It might IMPLODE if you put too many apps on it.”

How the iCloud works beats me

Dodgy photos, apps and games get rained down thousands of miles away by that clever little iCloud (beats me how it works)

Their screen time is limited, but you’d be amazed how many apps he’s got his hands on. My screen-ager intuitively knows that the iPad isn’t a toy; it’s a toy chest of apps and games, and his little fingers literally fly round the screen, leaving smeary fingerprints as they go.

Then came the email from my mum. Son 2 has her old iPad and the password is hers. “Is someone trying to reset the password?” she asked. “It’s just that I keep getting messages saying someone’s attempting to reset it.”

That someone = Son 2.

And that’s not all. It appears the cloud has been busy too.

“And the thing is,” she continued, “overnight, all the apps appear on my iPad too.”

You can imagine how over the moon Son 2 is – that his grandmother in the UK must surely be playing with his Lego Batman app over her cornflakes.

You might also like: A cold call from the world-wide web

Technology infiltrates prayer time

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Have you ever watched a three-year-old play with an iPad? It’s actually quite shocking. The way those chubby fingers fly round the screen, leaving smeery fingerprints as they go, and the way the machine is handed back to you with 2% battery power.

While nobody was looking, something has happened to today’s tots. They’ve become ‘screen-agers’, who intuitively know that an iPad isn’t a toy, it’s a toy chest of apps and games.

Here at Circles, I’m continually nagged, harassed and cajoled until I give in and pass the iPad over to the children. LB can find and play a whole raft of kids’ apps (check iGameMom.com for some great ideas) and his six-year-old brother is just a click away from downloading hundreds more from the Apple Store.

“Books….nah! Mummy’s iPad is much more fun AND it can teach me to read”

And, I’m the first to admit, it’s the most wonderful electronic babysitter – especially during those times when you need to get things done, like make dinner, or drive.

I’d go so far as to suggest that iPads might even have been designed with young children in mind. They’re small and compact, with no power cords to trip on or chew, and they’re instantly on, cutting down on whinge time. What’s more, they’re made to be touched, with no keys to get jammed up with juice or bashed.

I worked out today that by the time my children reach middle school, they’ll have been using an iPad almost every day for eight years.

But just as noteworthy is the way modern technology has crept into every part of our children’s lives. Kids can learn to read and count on iPads, they can colour in virtual colouring books, bake electronic pies and video the ceiling. They can watch cartoons and movies on iPads and play games galore. And that’s not all: modern technology can even infiltrate prayer time.

My good friend and mother of BB’s girlfriend told me yesterday that after saying a prayer for her five-year-old daughter that evening, she was asked: “Mommy, say ‘send’.

So cute, it was worth a whole blog post!