Get off the iPad. That’s my iPad. When you’ve done your homework you can have your…MY iPad. No iPad in the morning. What the hell is that on the iPad screen? I need to clean the iPad. Why does no one else charge the iPad except me, and yet I never get to use it? The iPad is DEAD again. I loved this iPad so much when I used to get a chance to use it. Where’s the iPad? It’s only got four percent. How did you know my passcode? If it just says “GET” then yes you can but if there’s a number then no you can’t. What’s this email receipt for? Did it say GET? NO? Don’t run with the iPad. You’ll smash it. What is that you’re listening to? I think I heard a swear word. Oh, that was me.
Sound familiar? Every day in our house and I need to gain some control.
But tonight, with BUB.2 tucked up in bed upstairs, BUB.1 snuggled alongside me on the sofa to show me the house he made in Minecraft for his brother.
“So I’ve made a house for him here, here’s his bedroom with a bookcase, and here’s his oven and I’ve put potato in there cooking for him, he can cook whatever he likes. And my house is over there but I’ve not put anything in mine except two beds. One for me and one for him if he wants to come and stay.”
Silence. And a little shared smile and a thankful squeeze of his knee.
In amongst the parental anxieties, pressures and concerns, it’s definitely not all bad.