Parenting
“Hey, everyone! I said no more videos. Step away from the screen!” I marched over to the couch where my kids were hunched over, their faces inches from the glowing iPad. The device, encased in a ridiculous protective cover, was propped against the cushions, and I could already feel my irritation bubbling. As I reached for it, my oldest son, Max, recoiled, looking sheepish. But it wasn’t what I feared; they weren’t glued to the latest cartoon episode. Instead, they were on Pandora.
“I just wanted to see who’s singing, Mom,” he explained, a hint of pride in his voice.
“Oh,” I sighed, my annoyance evaporating faster than a forgotten ice cube in the summer sun. As a music lover, I couldn’t help but feel a bit smug. Clearly, I was nurturing a budding music enthusiast. Still, I kept my stance firm. “That’s enough iPad time for today.”
“Can I use your phone then?” he asked, eyes wide with curiosity.
“What for?” I replied, suspicious.
“To make a video!”
“But I’m running low on memory, and I need it for work,” I protested.
“Just one more, I promise!” he pleaded, and honestly, I could use a laugh for my social media later. “Fine, go ahead.”
As I tried to wrest the iPad away from my toddler, who was using it as a chew toy, I quickly forgot my irritation. Six minutes later, Max returned, excitement radiating from him. “Do you want to see it?” he asked sweetly.
“Sure, show me your cinematic masterpiece,” I replied, taking a sip from the toddler’s sippy cup. “But let’s move to a cooler spot.”
Once settled near the air conditioner, I pressed play. The screen displayed blue digital numbers. “Is this a clock?” I asked.
“It’s the radio, Mom!” he beamed, fists clenched in excitement.
“You filmed a clock on the radio? I think I see why my phone’s running slow today.” My annoyance resurfaced momentarily.
“But listen, Mom,” he urged. I turned up the volume, distancing myself from the noise of the air conditioner. A catchy bass line pulsed through the speakers. “It’s our song,” he declared proudly.
And in that moment, I realized this was as close as my kids would get to the nostalgic experience of lying on the floor with a record player and a stack of vinyl. They might never know the thrill of waiting by the radio with a finger hovering over the record button, eager to capture their favorite song. Dear Lord, they’re missing out on liner notes!
I let that realization sink in. Then, as the self-proclaimed Screen Time Sergeant, I led Max back to the living room and the now-chewed iPad. After brushing away crumbs from the couch, I announced, “New family rule: If you’re listening to music, you can use the iPad without asking.”
With that, I grabbed the iPad and unlocked it. “Let’s see who’s singing, kiddo. Sounds like a band I used to love, and it is! It’s They Might Be Giants! I haven’t heard them in ages!”
He interrupted, “No, Mom. You’re wrong.”
I hesitated, continuing to listen to the tune. “I’m not, buddy. That’s definitely They Might Be Giants.”
“No, Mom! Mickey Mouse is singing!” he insisted, blissfully unaware of the lyrical absurdity he was referencing. While it would be awkwardly hilarious to one day play that song at his wedding, I looked forward to guiding him through a more appropriate musical journey, no matter the medium.
Just as I was about to dive deeper into my love for music, I couldn’t help but think about how this quest for musical knowledge would shape our family and bond us in new ways.