When we jumped to the country eight years ago and bought an old farmhouse in the middle of nowhere with a creek and a pond and acres of land to run and play in….
….never did I envision a house full of children staring at screens.
Not my children.
Why? Why would they ever need any of those? They had blue skies and green grass and crickets and land to run….
….so why would technology ever be a part of the equation?
So imagine my surprise when I walked into the living room yesterday to see four heads bent over screens.
I sighed loudly with great emphasis.
No one noticed.
I banged some dishes putting them into the dishwasher.
No one even moved.
I stood on my head and sang Uptown Funk with choreography to see if anyone would pay attention.
Just the sound of endless typing and brain cells going to sleep.
That was it.
“Enough,” I said in a very loud voice that someone else might have mistaken for yelling. “Outside. Go forth and run,” I declared as I pointed with dramatic emphasis toward the back door.
And slowly, at the speed of a sloth, they reluctantly and begrudgingly put down their i-whatevers and with drooping shoulders topped off with extra eye rolls….
…..headed outside to run.
Oh the injustice of it all.
And run they did.
And run and run and ruuuuuuun.
They climbed trees and played hide-and-go-seek in the wet grass and explored the creek and watched rabbits hop and stared at the clouds and tried to make each other laugh and they ran through the back field and played a million and one games of made-up basketball.
And the hours passed.
I watched as they ran through the front door to the back door to stop and grab a drink of water or a snack.
I kept waiting for them to slow down.
But they never did.
Constant blurs of motion with endless energy.
And at the end of the day, they finally stopped and came in to rest.
They stood in the middle of the kitchen.
And smiles as big as the state of Kentucky.
“Mom,” they said grinning and laughing and giggling, telling me about the afternoon with the words tumbling out over and over. “That was the best day ever.”
The best day ever.
A summer day in the middle of the country, where blue skies and green grass and endless games of made-up basketball reigned…..
…..and technology left the building.