I'm spending the first hour or so of Father's Day in the usual position — hunched over a keyboard while at least one of my kids is buried in a tablet. I know that's not the best way for either of us to spend a Sunday morning. But it's also familiar. And like all things in moderation, it's probably not too bad for either of us. Kid No. 1 is fixated on her screen, playing some awful freemium game, no doubt. (I do have her at least give me a cursory look at what she's playing. But after a while all these crap games tend to look alike.)
In the time it's taken me to write this, she's since retreated to her room, face now buried in phone. I can summon her more quickly over Google Hangouts than I can by voice.
These are first-world parenting problems, for sure. Failure? Success? Both, I think. And I'll take it. Happy Father's Day.
Avril Lavigne
Fergie
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