Today I deleted my games from my IPhone.
Except for that one, because we play it together and I really think it teaches Bjorn letters. And locations. (Okay, Bjorn, put the "a" BELOW the "p".) And because I really like Words.
Before this past Christmas, I had the oldest mobile phone known to mankind. It was the size of my desk, and had a curly cord and an antenna as long as my arm. Either that, or it was a flip phone that took horrible pictures, had no game capabilities and to text, I had to tap the number 3 button three times for I, then twice for H, etc. Remember those?!
Then, for Christmas, my wonderful husband said it was about time I traded up and I fell deep into the rabbit hole of Apple phones.
Texting! Voice texting! Facetime! Words with Friends! Facebook! Pinterest! GPS! An app that locates the nearest beer brewer! A rosary! CNN!
Hooked doesn't even begin to describe how into this phone I have been.
I'm not sure I've even been married these last 7 months. In fact, I don't even know where my husband is right now. Crying in his beer, maybe?!
The worst part, though, is that I have these games on my phone. Worthless, useless games that are fun to play against all my facebook friends. Games that I literally play all day.
While I'm playing cars with my kid. Or puzzles. Coloring. Playing pretend. I have to be honest with you - playing with little children bores me. After a few minutes of racing a car down the same stretch of road, or putting together a puzzle for 15th time that day. . . well. . I get bored. (I know, that makes me a horrible mom, but whatever, this is my mommy confessional. I might as well tell 'em all!) So when I get bored, I play a little game against my friends.
My son notices.
His shoulders droop. He throws his car across the room, hoping to get my attention, knowing that by throwing something, I will scold him. And bad attention is better than no attention at all.
Today he asked me,"Mommy. Put down your phone, please. Put it away."
And I was transported to a day 12 years from now, when Bjorn is texting (or whatever it will be then) with his friends, his neck permanently cricked down, hair falling forward, his face so close to the screen for such long periods that I have to look at a school picture to remember what he actually looks like from the front.
I see myself begging him to talk to me, tell me something about his day, tell me a joke, anything, if he would just put down the phone, please.
Wherever he may learn to be addicted to technology, that technology is more important than people, he won't learn it from me.