My kids have now entered the world of the “pocket” call.
Used to be when I picked up an incoming call and heard static and muffled voices, it was my husband, whose phone — unbeknownst to him — was dialing me up all on its own, almost always while being jostled around in his pants pocket during his walk from the train to his office or vice versa.
A couple of times I’ve gotten similar calls from K, probably when her phone is either crammed into her jeans pocket or stuffed into a backpack or cheer duffle. The other day we got one for the first time from G. It was obvious the phone was in his pocket and he was walking on something snow-covered that was crunching beneath him (he attends college in major snow belt territory).
But just to be safe, of course, I waited a few minutes and rang him up. No surprise, he was under no duress or state of emergency and did not call home intentionally.
But at least it gave me an excuse for a quick chat!