My Life Is Good

There was discussion this evening about "screen time." A group of parents sat around after dinner and ruminated on the world that our children are being set up to inherit. In this rather close-knit affiliation of families, ours is the technology household. We have three computers connected to the Internet, another old laptop in my son's room for playing chess and periodic typing practice. The back room features the "old-school" Playstation console, while in the living room we have the Nintendo Gamecube. Tucked away in the same cabinet as the television is the box with our son's Gameboy (in case someone doesn't want to wait their turn to play on the big screen).
Many parents see us as harbingers of evil. There are kids who want to come to our house to check out what's happening in the video world. In spite of all the indications to the contrary, we have limits to the amount of time and energy we put into the virtual. There are bikes to ride, trees to climb, baseballs and footballs to toss, soccer balls to kick, and a world of fun before they ever enter the door. Then there's the amazing and impressive Lego collection that is in a constant state of reclamation - one thing is built from the parts of a project that was completed only the day before.
Still, the cry will always come, "Can we play video games?" It always feels like a defeat when we give in to the request. Somehow we have failed. Didn't we buy all this stuff in the first place? Isn't this what we should expect? We went out and bought the apple tree and stuck it right smack in the middle of our Garden of Eden, then we told the kids that temptation was bad - but a lot of fun too.
The kids are having fun. We listen to them and talk to them to make sure that their senses don't become permanently dulled. Then, at last we turn it off and send them back outside. It's a smiling bit of a high-wire act that we call "compromise."