Confessions of a Pocket Dialer

My college-aged daughter has woken us up at all hours of the night with a phone call to our home and to my cell phone.  We can hear her with her friends in the background, but she can't hear us.  Her phone has just dialed us from her coat pocket--a classic pocket dial.

I really hate that.

This morning.  With my phone holstered on my belt as I drove to the office and after telling my wife that I hope she had a quiet day (as quiet as one can have with three first graders on a snow day), my phone dialed home eight times. 

Oops.  I guess that's a gut dial.

Wonder why it wouldn't just call my daughter, to get even.

I better start using that lock feature more.