He comes home. And the minute he bursts through the door he is on his screen. Unless I tell him not to, and then it is whining and tears. But I don’t always tell him not to. Much less than I should actually. And it shames me to admit it. Because my own screen (and work) has grabbed ahold of my eyes and attention too. So often it feels like I am powerless against it. Entranced. Then an hour. Two hours. Three hours come to pass, and there we are both still on our screens as helpless as Mowgli in Kaa’s hypnotic grasp. And then comes the guilt. Why am I such a lousy father to allow it? I know better.
I gather that I am not the only parent in the world to feel this way. The parents of today raise families vaguely similar to but in many ways completely different from our own parents. The screen they fought (TV) didn’t have quite the hold that the screens of today do. As a child of His age, I recall coming home, dumping my backpack, and then off on my bike for hours on end. I recall lots of outside. I recall laughter and joy. I recall being yelled at for coming home far too late and so worrying mom. There was TV too of course. Ninja Turtles and lots of them. But lots of outside when that got boring.
A lot of my growing up time was spent in a blue or brown uniform with other kids of similar bent. We just called it Scouts. Mom, I’m riding my bike to Scouts. Okay, dear.
We’d spend entire weekends away from home and running amok in the woods (supervised of course by coffee-swilling parents enjoying a campfire community of their own). On Sunday we returned home wreaking wonderfully of B.O. and campfire smoke. Our mothers yelled at us to leave our smelly mess in the garage and to please, for the love of civilized decency, take a shower. Thus washed and exhausted we’d pass out early and thrilled and looking forward to the next time. Oh man, the memories. Folks, this is doing it right. Out in the wild and in the woods and growing like weeds. That is the way to fight Kaa. That is the way for a kid to grow.
Raised thus and with my own fond memories at hand, I brought him to Scouts at the tender age of 5. He loved it from day one. He loves being outside. He loves playing with his friends. He loves bugs and plants and learning about outside stuff. And they talk a lot about Pokémon and imaginary super powers flashing here and there in the woods as they rush to capture invisible cartoon animals (without screens). But that’s fine. Because they are outside. And running. And playing. And, for at least a brief hour or two, they are each out of Kaa’s wicked squeeze.
On Monday nights he, his older brother and I all suit up and head up to the church. He looks forward to it. He loves it. I mentioned to him how cool it would be to be an Eagle Scout like his dad. I showed him all the cool knick-knacks that come along with it.
“Sure dad,” said He, “but also the Hiking and Camping.” Duh. Of course. The good stuff. The stuff that really matters. Wisdom from the mouths of babes.
And with those few words a surge of pride. Also a salve to the guilt. He gets it. He gets the amazing beauty of nature and of the outdoors. He grasps the lessons. He knows the value of a world beyond his beloved screen. And so I know he can escape the deathly embrace of Kaa if he so wishes. And he does want to. Especially if it means going Outside. Thank God. At least I’ve done something right.
Dear reader, I wrote this from the heart. So too this - Scouts BSA and Pack 405 have a lot to offer. They are first and foremost a community of parents who believe that teaching girls and boys resiliency, self-sufficiency, and citizenship within the context of The Great Outdoors is one of the best ways to learn, to grow, and to battle that pernicious snake - Kaa the Screen. If you read this all the way through then I imagine you jive with the feeling behind it. Please join me Monday, November 7th at 6:30pm at Christ Lutheran Church, 510 Luther Dr, Georgetown, TX 78628 to discuss The Great Adventure. Bring yourselves and your kids. Adults will discuss community, and I will answer questions. The kids will build rockets. There will not be a snake in sight.