Generation Gap

My mom and dad weren’t all that particular about my childhood amusements. My father’s position was that as long as I was getting good grades in school, then what I did with my free time was up to me; and I’m pretty sure my mother’s view was something like unless I was destroying the house or spilling her coffee, then no further intervention was required.

I don’t recall them nagging me too much about watching TV or listening to music; I did have a few of the classic bouts over hair length with my dad, but even those were fairly half-hearted; he even let me transfer from prep school to Central Catholic High so I could let my locks fall over my collar.

So it’s sorta weird to me that I get so exercised over the kid’s screen time in front of the computer playing online Flash-based games. I feel like some sort of clichéd old man: “Turn down that damn music!” Or “It’s a beautiful day, why don’t you go outside and play?!”

The one that particularly makes me nuts is called “N.” The player controls this little stick figure man as he jumps around these platforms trying to avoid being killed by falls, explosions, Pacman-like balls, and other challenges.

Under certain conditions—long, empty afternoons, commercial breaks during American Idol, mornings when she should be getting ready for school, the kid will sit in front of the screen for as long as we let her, tapping at the keys, making her little guy go here and there, level to level.

I suppose it’s teaching some sort of hand-eye coordination skills, and maybe an appreciation for the interface, and perhaps even empathy for the little man on screen, but to me, it’s just an insipid waste of time and I find myself wanting to shut down the computer and never let her play again.

But, at least she’s not destroying the house or spilling my coffee.