A Wigwam for a Goose's Bridle

Today I became that mother.

You know the one I mean: sitting in the restaurant with her child using a device. For at least a fleeting moment you think why isn’t she talking to that child? Doesn’t she know screen time is bad for his development?

I swore my child would have no screen time until the age of 2, at least. And here we are at 18 months, and I am that mother I didn’t want to be. He doesn’t get it often, but every time I use it, I feel a pang of guilt, because I’ve read the studies.

But here’s the thing, our lives aren’t a study. We’re exhausted right now. He doesn’t sleep well at the best of times. Last night we were evacuated from the 10th floor. False alarm, but it took almost 2 hours after midnight to get him back to sleep. Today, we finally made it to the half-fancy restaurant we’d been waiting for. Cue tantrum right on arrival. He’s tired too. And he doesn’t like their high chair, because he’s a toddler and well, reasons. And I just need to read the menu and make a decision because the waitress is breathing down our necks. And I need him not to scream because people are staring. And my husband says, “don’t you have some wiggles on your phone?” And so I do it. I turn it down low and prop the phone against his drink bottle. And he calms down. And I choose a meal.

And I leave it running. Even though people are still staring and I feel self conscious. I try to feed him. I try to feed myself. Both whilst keeping a hand on the precarious high chair that he is trying to topple. And the food is good. It’s not quite the lunch date I envisaged, but I manage to enjoy it with the help of the Wiggles.