This is the clock that sits on my bedside table:
Last week, Little G was snuggling with me in bed before we had to get up for the day (he finally, after a YEAR of sleeping in his big boy bed in his big boy bedroom will get up in the morning and leave his bedroom all by himself instead of calling for us to get him). Snuggling, of course, is actually defined as rolling all over me in bed with elbows and feet flailing all over the place.
So it happened that while we were 'snuggling' my clock got knocked off the bedside table. I picked it up and though it didn't LOOK broken, it did seem to have something rather large knocked loose and clunking around in it.
Since then it has only told the correct time twice a day, in other words, it stopped working.
So tonight, as I was getting into bed, I decided to rid myself of the broken clock and hauled it over to our bedroom trashcan. As I was depositing the clock, my husband said, "Let me see that." I reminded him that it was broken and he asked me if he could open it up. I rolled my eyes and said I didn't think there was a way to get inside as I proceeded to try to wedge the back open.
He reached out his hand to me from bed and said, "may I look at it?" I sighed, begrudgingly, and handed him the clock and got into bed fully expecting him to realize how right I was about how you couldn't even get into the back of this clock to even SEE what was wrong, no less fix it.
Yeah, in less than 30 seconds he had unscrewed the two very obvious finger screws on the back panel, opened up the clock, replaced the AA battery that had been knocking about (clumsily) on the inside, closed the casing and reset the clock.
I've clearly given up and stepped of the technology train.