Some moms serve breakfast at the kitchen table. I serve mine in front of the TV.
Or the iPad.
Or a Boxcar Children chapter book.
Why? Because I’m lazy and indulgent?
No.
Because I want what’s best for my kids.
“Mom, can I play on your iPad?” My seven-year-old clamped her teeth and grinned, hands clasped beneath her chin in a pleading pose. I’d seen that look before. It means, Daddy just installed a new LEGO app and we can’t get enough of it.
“Yes, but you need to eat your cereal, and when the clock says 7:20, it’s time to put down the iPad and get dressed.”
“Ok!” She grabbed my tablet off its docking station and settled on the sofa, where I placed a breakfast tray beside her.
“7:20.” I pointed to the clock. “Got it?”
“Yeeeees.”
I migrated to the kitchen to pack pear slices and pretzels into sandwich baggies. When the clock struck 7-2-0, I called out, “What time is it?”
“Awww, Mom! Just five more minutes, please?”
“Nope. We had a deal.”
A deep sigh blew from across the room. Then I heard the click of a cover flip, and my girl yanked off her pajama top in exchange for school clothes.
