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| fine motor skills? check! |
It happened. Yesterday, I lost my *&$! at a family restaurant. You may be wondering, what on earth does that pithy, academic opening quote have to do with a loss of self-control at a pancake house? Well, I'm here to tell you. Charlie loves french fries. This too, may seem like a non-sequitur, but its connected, I promise. He loves them so much, I am basically forced to take him to places that fry them by the plateful for cheap and have excellent coffee. McDonald's you're thinking, however, I do have values and so I'm trying not to expose him to the evils of the Golden Arches until at least his little league years I mean, he's only 20 months old. (never mind his in-utero exposure to McChicken sandwiches. Shhhh - don't tell!) Anyway, shockingly, I digress. Russell Williams Family Restaurant (unfortunately named, I know, and no it is in no way related to the Canadian Armed Forces general convicted of murdering women near Belleville) is just around the corner from our house and is extremely popular to the fur bat set. We wait in line often for a small table with a high chair and are greeted by wrinkly-handed cheek pinchers left, right and center. Usually, they are all very kind. "Oh boy, what a smart young man you are. Isn't that charming? You sure are a big boy! Have you got on your big-boy trousers?" I hear it all. Charlie has little to no time for people other than the waitress who brings him his deep-fried potatoes and so he's a tad rude. No responses, no thank-yous, no eye contact.
Well, yesterday was an especially busy day at Russell Williams and Charlie was in no mood to exercise patience, and so I pulled out my secret weapon for waiting in lines when the whining often shifts into overdrive and so does my blood pressure. Its an app on my iPhone called ABC Go! and its basically like cordblood its so valuable. It instantly calms Charlie from insane fits of kitten-eating rage to perfect little bo peep status. Its like silvering a vampire. He's instantly subdued. So I sat him beside me on the dilapidated, brown, faux-leather banquette and waited for our table. Charlie was swiping and pinching and tapping like a pro. The geriatrics sat aghast. I heard them whispering, "oh my god, look at him! He knows how to work that thing! He can't be older than 2! What on earth? Isn't there a limit? I heard those things cause cancer!" I tried to ignore them, besides the cancer comment was rich coming from a Sue Ellen who looked like a leopard she had so many sun spots on her shrivelled chest not to mention the voice of a Du Maurier diehard from pre-war times. Because she couldn't help herself into minding her own beeswax, she actually got up and slowly laboured to move right beside me to direct this comment my way: Dear, I know that you probably find it convenient to give him that game instead of playing with him, but for the sake of our future citizens, don't you think he's just a little bit young to be glued to a screen already? There's plenty of time for that, you know. Isn't it a bit much for him at that age?" She looked at me, judging me, disappointed in me, waiting for a response. Waiting for me to grovel and quickly put the phone back in my purse. This is where I lost my *&$!.
I used my most condescending "digital native" voice when speaking to this "digital immigrant". "Ma'am, this is called an iPhone. It is not the wave of the future, it is the now. I don't let him play with this instead of mothering him, I give him this because, as his mother, I know that its educational and he likes it. I'm a teacher (yes, I played that card) and there are many things you may not be familiar with given your, ahem, age, but today's citizens are using these interactive machines to be connected, more productive and to have fun. Life causes cancer. What you are about to eat for breakfast certainly causes cancer and your comments, quite honestly have probably started a tumour in one of our bodies so thanks for your concern, but we're all going to be okay over here, so go take your pills."
Her response was huffy and something along the lines of, "Well I never..." as she wiggled away to her cronies. We stayed for french fries and more iPhone playing and received some serious cut eye. I loudly said, "Charlie would you like some of mommy's coffee? How about some more salt and ketchup?" I'm a brat, I know.
And now for the tie-in regarding the opening quote by Susan Sontag. The nosy old lady was worried that I was plugging Charlie in to a mind-numbing apparatus instead of letting him run around outside the restaurant and play in the grass and sunshine, eating worms and the like. I get it. She wants to see kids the way they were when she was one or when she was rearing her own or playing with her grand children. It is a horror to her to see such a young mind already addicted to online videos and technology. I argue that games like ABC Go! and other apps for toddlers are actually sharpening their senses. Charlie can hear from miles away, and long before I can, a siren or airplane. He can smell the toast burning before I can when he says "Uh oh!" with gusto and points to the fire alarm, as if his index finger is magically triggering it to go off instead of the smoke. At a recent appointment with his paediatrician, the doctor commented on Charlie's keen awareness of his surroundings, as well as his Bobby McFerrin-esque ability to imitate the sounds he hears. So screw you, nosy old cow. Oh, and get an iPhone.
