Ah, summer. A time to sleep in, laze about, and…add more job descriptions to my already exhaustive mommy resume. Yesterday, my preschooler followed me into the laundry room where I was working a shift (Laundress, 1997-present) and said, “Mama, I want to order something.” I had an idea where this conversation might be leading, but…
“It’s a process, not an event.” I heard this about a number of things in my kiddo’s toddler life – weaning, teething, potty training. Now I’m midway through another process with kiddo – switching schools for a second time.
I’m a bit sad my daughter won’t have the kind of carefree childhood I recall. There was a certain magic to being a kid in a world where everything wasn’t served with a side of warning, and one wasn’t tethered to some form of electronic device at all times. Moms felt comfortable yelling from the back porch out into the wilderness, knowing their kids would come home, worried less about organic foods, or the latest rise in Lyme’s Disease.
A summer day in my childhood went something like this:
Mom makes pancakes and scrambled eggs while my brother and I watch cartoons in the morning. After a while she tells us to go play, and we head out into the woods behind our backyard. It’s a forest to our young eyes. Our sunscreen-free skin lightly toasted in the light, exposed to ticks, poison ivy, and other dangers, but we don’t think about it at all.
Like most adults in my age bracket (and younger), nearly everything I know about smart phones, the internet, social media, and my digital footprint is self-taught. My brother and I sometimes help our parents through the complexities of modern tech—like strong passwords and wireless routers. My mother bought her first smartphone in 2016, and while she enjoys having instant access to the weather, she still refuses to buy anything online.
I imagine parents at the turn of the 20th century had the same hesitation with automobiles. They probably watched their children puttering along in their “horseless buggies”, flabbergasted.
Just imagine, an entire generation taught themselves to drive. The equivalent can be said for Millennials who came of age when everyone was learning to use social media and handheld devices. In most cases, the younger generation taught their parents. No one ever explained to these young adults how posting a keg-stand pic freshman year could hurt their job search after graduation.
We all know those parents.
Their perfect offspring never tantrums, learned to read before Kindergarten, kicks a soccer ball better than Beckham, and has artistic skills to rival Picasso.
You stand beside the swing set, nodding your head as they gush about their child’s seemingly inhuman accomplishments. If you’re nicer than me, you’re thrilled that such a talented individual will lead the next generation. If not, your internal monologue goes something like this: Your kid is eating boogers. Right now
