Like everybody else (who’s smart), we’re at home, trying to work and learn and co-exist. Let’s face it: This lifestyle shatters long-term parenting philosophies. I suppose many people can toss the shards quietly into the trash, but I was foolish enough to have documented them publicly, often in this very space.

Here’s the situation. My daughter has found a good spot to quarantine. So it’s me, my wife, and the boys. The boys are solid gents. They certainly aren’t tearing the place–or each other–apart.

I say that to emphasize that we’re doing okay here. The virus is near, but we have a yard and have been able for the most part to steer clear of people. We’re living this social distancing thing as best we can, but that involves a good bit of easing up around the house.

And man am I easing up. Yeah, after years of encouraging them to play board games, of providing ink and paper for crafts, of Legos, of books–now it’s gotta be whatever they want to do to slug the day into submission.

I’m the guy who once drove my kids 2,000+ miles without a TV in the car. Nowadays? I’m watching Breaking Bad with a high school kid.

I have voiced the shared frustration of my generation with kids and their darn devices, although with some of the skepticism I’m feeling lately as I see, at least in my house, that these digital natives miss the tangibles of seeing each other. They’re craving contact.

But now? While I guess I wish they were steadily crafting or painting or reading or inventing calculus and theorizing gravity and stuff like Isaac Newton during the Black Plague, I’m like, “Hey gents, feel free to bone up on your video game skills.” I say nothing when I stroll by at 2:00 in the afternoon and they’re sitting around, unshaven (!), playing old favs like Rocket League and MineCraft. FIFA may be too painful, since they can’t even go to the local parks now because everything is closed.

(Wait, I haven’t totally betrayed the literacy mission and the dozens of pieces I’ve written about it. I’m still convinced that more reading=a better life. I just can’t die on that hill every day.)

I want them to move around. To work out. But anything’s good enough now. I wanted them to play soccer in the yard, so we dragged out an old-school net with a rusted frame. When I looked outside, they were pelting each other with tennis balls. “Ah, that’s nice,” I thought.

I once wrote about the beach and child corpulence and too-frequent visits to the ice cream truck. Well, the beaches are closed, but Rita’s water ice I guess is essential, and the only reason we’re not into Rita’s or our own ice cream every single night is because we’re eating a homemade baked good my wife made.

It’s not all screens. We’re playing board games, including the reigning king, Code Names. Despite the irony, we’ve also played a collaborative game called Pandemic. And my wife has done about 75 puzzles already.

But even in this area I’m sliding. The main attraction has been poker. Do I worry that my youngest son’s philosophy, very un-Kenny Rogers like, is “I’ll keep playing until I win my money back!”? Do I worry that everyone in the house has an IOU from him? I’ll worry later.

For now, there’s three of us online learning and teaching, all sipping gently at the wifi.

As I said, compared to many,  we’re doing okay. But at some point, the walls may close in. Then it’ll be more things that will topple previous pillars of parenting. At some point, to solve the tennis ball pelting, I may practically shout, “For the love of all that’s good, go play some darn video games!”

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Scott Warnock

Scott Warnock is a writer and teacher who lives in South Jersey. He is a professor of English at Drexel University, where he is also the Associate Dean of Undergraduate Education in the College of Arts and Sciences. Father of three and husband of one, Scott is president of a local high school education foundation and spent many years coaching youth sports.

Latest posts by Scott Warnock (Posts)

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