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parenthood is a rollercoaster

Video Game Detox

My wife, out of the blue today, said: “I think we made it through the video game detox.”

Right away, I knew what she was talking about and that she was right. It was a happy moment, and hopefully there won’t be a “retox.”

For years, our kids would only have video game time once in a while, usually when I had a few extra hours with them alone and needed a little bit of a break. Like, to nap in my chair for 20 minutes while they played video games. Or I’d be in the mood to play myself and the kids would say, “Daddy, please would you show me your skills?”

“Sure,” I’d respond, and they I’d work some Super Mario magic, old school style. Really old school. The new version would probably melt my brain cells.

The kids didn’t usually beg for game time. They knew that usually would get them a “Not this time” for an answer. They didn’t expect it regularly, so it was always a treat.

At a certain point a few months ago, my wife and I decided we’d let each of the kids have 15 minutes a day of video game time. We figured they’d enjoy the little indulgence, and we could tie that in to behavior. If they had poor behavior at school or at home, we’d start docking minutes of video game time. If they were given extra praise by teachers, we’d give extra video game time.

This backfired as badly as trying to get past King Koopa when you’re a tiny little Mario.

It didn’t take long before we witnessed:

  • Daily pleas for “Can I go first?”
  • Arguments about where each kid would sit on the couch.
  • Arguments over the best ways to play the game, which was usually an online version of Super Mario.
  • An abundance of “I don’t want him to watch me play” complaints.
  • An excess of “I don’t want her to watch me play” complaints.
  • A ridiculous amount of “How much time does he have left?” questions.
  • Pouts and stomps and mini-tantrums over any minutes lost.
  • Ownership of video game time. “It’s MY video game time.”
  • “Can I have my video game time now?” became a oft-repeated question every single day.

It all became ridiculous and frustrating. We were at a loss for what to do about it. We had made a huge increase in how much video game time they had and expected them to appreciate that, but instead there was much more negativity over the video games.

Books got read less. Artwork decreased. Lego play dwindled. Sitting around looking bored increased.

Finally we told the kids we were going to take a break from video game time while we figured out some new system. At first, we toyed with the idea of having tokens that they could earn and then cash in, but something stopped us. Then my wife had a Light Bulb! moment and realized that by taking away minutes and giving minutes the way we were doing, as well as making it a daily practice to let them have video game time, we were attaching way more importance to video game time than was necessary. It didn’t match our values. It’s just entertainment for us. Not to negate the value it can have for others, including those who develop and test games for a living, but that didn’t apply to us. We needed to change how we valued it.

She equated it with desserts: we don’t have desserts every day, just once in a while. Desserts are something pleasant to have, but aren’t actually that important to us on a daily basis. So why not treat the video games the same way? Offer it randomly, on occasion, unattached to behavior directly. We’re not likely to offer the time when we’re grumpy because behavior’s been lousy, but we don’t really need to emphasize a reason why we’re giving a little bit of video game time.

So we went ahead and made that switch. There was some grumbling, and the requests for video game time began to fade after a few days of our saying not to ask for it. After about two weeks, I found a good moment to randomly offer the kids some video game time, and they enjoyed themselves. Then moved on.

The Lego play, the reading, the artwork, all of this has increased. Gone are the daily complaints and requests about video game time. Gone are the useless arguments about where to sit and how to play. We made it through the video game detox.

And is everything just a bucket of peace right now? No, not exactly. They’re still human beings, and kids. Sibling rivalry wasn’t wiped out indirectly, but is still alive and kicking in our living room. But the video game tribulations seem to be over, and I think we’re all the better for it.

In parenting, I think we don’t tend to take anything as guaranteed to last forever. We can only hope that this is an issue gone for good. Time will answer that question for us.

By J. Parrish Lewis

J. Parrish Lewis was born and raised in Maryland. In his youth there, he and his brother had many adventures in the dogwood forests near his home. His nostalgia for these adventures has strongly influenced his characters, their relationships, and their perspective on the world they inhabit. He moved to California’s coast to earn his degree in communications and now lives with his family in the San Joaquin Valley. Lewis is profoundly deaf and uses American Sign Language to communicate. He enjoys hazelnut coffee, captioned movies, and walking his dog.

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