Bowing to pressure (and wanting a place to post all of my Amazing Leg Mama Hen photos) I joined Instagram this afternoon. Marc and I were at lunch and he downloaded the app on my phone for me.
Log in using Facebook account? It asked me.
Sure, why not. I automatically clicked yes before I realized that no, I did not want all of these Instagrams on my Facebook page, in fact that was the reason I was creating an Instagram account in the first place. I wanted all my Lego Mama Hen photos to be in a separate location.
Sigh, I was in before I knew it and to test if my photos went to Facebook, I took a picture of my Amazing Lego Mama Hen waiting for our food.
Who’s Whitney_xx? I asked my husband a little confused at what my screen was telling me. And who is Doozey_x that likes my photo?
It took a while for us to figure it out that Instagram, based on my (supposed) Facebook login information (or not as the case may be), dumped *me* into Whitney’s Instagram account (for some reason we had the same email addresses, for the record, I had it first.)
Bad, Instagram. Very bad Instagram.
Once I realized what was happening, poor Whitney didn’t stand a chance.
This is me/Whitney waiting for lunch listening to Jimmy Buffet at a rib shack.
By this time, a few of my/Whitney’s friends were liking my/Whitney’s photos “whhhhhiiiiittneyyy!!!!”
This is me/Whitney after lunch. (I was pretty sure that my/Whitney’s parents in particular would appreciate this one.)
By then I started to feel bad, after all, Whitney is just a college kid (and how do I know? I was able to see her fall schedule on her/my Instagram account.) So I tried to reach out to her:
Having heard nothing by the time we were ready to leave, I waved goodbye to me/her:
See ya Whitney, I have to go back to work.
But then as we were leaving the restaurant I couldn’t resist one last photo with a bit of mama hen motherly advice.
Rules are meant to be broken.
By the time I got home, I had received two email messages from Instagram. Apparently I had just changed my email account was that okay? And then another one, alerting me that I had just changed my password, was that me who did it?
Although I’m not one for lying I didn’t reply and let it all happen as it should. Technically it wasn’t me that changed those parameters, but I thought I had had enough fun with Whitney for the day.
Bye Whitney, I hardly got to know you.
For those wanting to follow the Amazing Lego Mama Hen adventure on Instagram, follow wendy.thomas1
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Wendy Thomas writes about the lessons learned while raising children and chickens in New Hampshire. Contact her at [email protected]
Join me on Facebook to find out more about the flock (children and chickens) and see some pretty funny chicken jokes, photos of tiny houses, and even a recipe or two.
And I’m on Instagram! wendy.thomas1 and Twitter: @wendyenthomas
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