Researchers watched parents use their phones at fast food joints and determined that it was, well, *bad.* I read a link tonight and found myself posting this response: Hi. Im a mom who likes to take her toddler out for lunch every few weeks. Chances are we woke up and cuddled, read books, and made up stories for an hour or two this morning. Then he ate breakfast with me and/ or daddy, interacting the whole time. We helped him go potty and wash hands and set out his jacket in just the right position on the floor so he could put it on by himself, flinging his arms over his head, a trick he calls the flippy thing. If its one of three preschool days we have each week, I then walked hand in hand with him, probably in the rain, stopping frequently to smell flowers, pick up sticks, pretend we are boarding a submarine, play air trumpet (Mikes Daviss So What, most likely), or make up songs about how not to step in dog poop on the sidewalk. Perhaps we also took the secret pathway through the schools gardens before eventually meandering to the preschool itself, a small and joyful place with a loving, adventurous environment. I went to work for three and a half hours, then picked him up. We played with the other kids and talked with the other parents and preschool teacher for ten minutes or so, then clambered into the car, where my son undoubtedly asked to hear the Beatles tape, the one we always listen to, on eternal auto-repeat, because he adores it . We drove along for a few songs, singing and comparing notes on the songs. I probably pointed out the great tambourine and shaker percussion on Wait and he commented on George Harrisons back masked guitar on ... I think it was Tomorrow Never Knows. We chatted, played undoubtedly against-regulations cart games, and sang as we shopped for groceries. The fish lady knows us. My son likely pointed to his favorite fish in the case and asked, May you please give us true cod, please? (That was an actual quote.) Sarah got us the fish and we all chatted a while. He had an accident, so we went to the bathroom. I have some physical problems, so it was painful for me, holding him up to the public toilet which is higher than the one at home, and also painful squatting down to help change his clothes. I bet I couldnt get him up to the sink, so I probably washed his hands with one of their scratchy paper towels dipped in water and splashed with soap. Because I was starting to feel hungry and cranky, and because my son loves sushi, we might have stopped at the sushi bar. Its our little tradition. The women behind the counter know hes going to want inari, so they start making it for him when we sit down, even though I always ask him to request it politely anyway. We chatted with our favorite server a bit, with each other a bit, pulling cheap rolls off the sushi train and sharing them, squabbling over whether he could grab a giant shrimp roll with weird sauces and stuff on it that hed end up playing with and skewering on a chopstick, then pretending to conduct an orchestra with it. Between the moments of chatting, I cleaned off my sticky fingers and enjoyed a few minutes of socializing via my phone. Or maybe I was just texting his friends dad about getting the kids together tomorrow, or uploading a photo of my son to Facebook. Then we spent about seven minutes paying for our food, because our favorite server lets my son enter in the numbers on the register, which he finds a marvelous task. I could tell you about the rest of our day---the improv jazz sessions we probably played, the cornbread muffins we might have baked, the consequences he likely got for throwing a stick into the street where it ostensibly mightve hit a passing cyclist--but youve probably already gotten the point, the same point the researchers wouldve gotten if they watched me take out my phone at the sushi place: Im a terrible parent.
Posted on: Tue, 11 Mar 2014 06:27:45 +0000
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