Lunch time, beach resort. Alex is cranky. We’ve just gone through all the hurdles related to going on holiday with a toddler – the waiting at the airport, the injustice of being belted into a seat, the splatter of food and toys, the waiting to get off the plane, the waiting for the bags. Normally, without a child, the lunch at the resort upon arriving is when you feel “Ahhhh, I’m on holiday.” Instead, I’m feeling “Ahhhh, why did we ever decide to go on this holiday?!”
Then, my resourceful husband gives me THAT look. “I think it’s time,” he says. I look at Alex, trying to pull all the placemats off the table, and already see him rejecting his lunch. At this point, I’ve used stickers, new toy vehicles, new puzzles and an assortment of treats he normally doesn’t get to eat. It’s time for our last resort: the iPad.
The minute I pull it out, Alex immediately changes from flailing toddler to placid supplicant. “Cars” he murmurs in reverent tones as I set it up and turn on the movie. And from that point on, he eats everything placed in front of him, completely engrossed in the Pixar money-spinner that most parents of boys these days are repeatedly subjected to. The rest of the time we have lunch in absolute peace.
Like so many well-meaning parents, I read those articles about screen time being bad for kids and swore my child wouldn’t be exposed to the likes of television and computers until he was ready to write essays on a word processor to be submitted as school assignments. When I was out with my one year old and saw babies his age with iPads mounted on their strollers, I tut-tutted from my mighty high horse, thinking ‘nay, not for us’. I’ll rise above this and train my child to entertain himself with toys made of organic wood after he’s eaten all the green vegetables placed in front of him neatly and quietly. I won’t be THAT kind of parent.
Of course, I’m the one neatly and quietly eating my humble pie now.
We tried, honestly. My husband and I (and any other helpful souls who were part of our restaurant party) would take turns running after our toddler, who delights in the higgledy piggledy maze of tables and aisles, while the other hurriedly wolfed our food and drink down with snatches of conversation in between. And then, one day, when it was my father’s birthday and we just wanted to relax and enjoy the meal, I very reluctantly relented to the magic of the iPad. Since then, it has become our go-to whenever we’re in a restaurant after we’ve exhausted other possibilities. When we’re on holiday and are eating out for every meal, this has devolved into three times day, with the iPad being set-up immediately upon us being seated at the table.
I met a Dutch guy once with twins. He showed me a picture of the two of them at meal time, and it was a huge mess all around. I asked him incredulously, “What on earth do you do when you go out with them?” He gave me a strange look and said, “We never take them out to eat.” It’s a generalisation, but many people from other parts of the world treat eating out as something that you do once in a while, for a special occasion, and/or a time when the main purpose isn’t to sustain yourself, but to enjoy the food, conversation and ambience. All of which are difficult to appreciate in the presence of a toddler, or my toddler, anyway.
Eating out in Malaysia, by contrast, is something you do two to three times a day, every day. It’s not the same experience of a treat as it is in many other countries, particularly ones with high costs of living. You don’t treat every occasion as one of concerted leisure. But you also don’t want to have to deal with restless kids three times a day. So an electronic babysitter becomes an automatic part of your routine in public spaces if you haven’t got help. I, for one, would rather everyone around me, and ourselves included, have a pleasant dining experience.
It’s not a trade-off that fills me with joy, believe me. It turns my kid into a zombie of sorts; he stares at the video, reacting to it to some extent, but mostly a passive blob to the bright, zippy colours and sounds. This is the reason we very consciously don’t allow him access to it on a regular basis (though at the moment, it’s part of our reward system for using the potty – more of that in a future installment!)
The ideal, of course, would be to train your kids to behave beautifully in public. But how does one do that? It worked for a while for us, up until Alex was about one and a half years old. He would be happy to play with whatever was in front of him and was occupied with the new sensations of textures and tastes. But it’s all old hat to him now, and he simply will not sit still while waiting for his food to arrive. I suppose we could produce toy after toy or book after book to keep him occupied, but this goes back to my wanting to enjoy myself too.
This is what being a first-time mum is like, right? Push-pull, dummy-no dummy, co-sleep-cot; the relentless wringing of hands over the right thing to do, guilt over decisions we’ve made and fear of judgement.
It’s been six months since that first use of the iPad in a restaurant. Yesterday when we went out for lunch, Alex brought his two newest tractors along, which he played with while waiting for his food. He looked at the menus, pointing out what he could recognise. When the food arrived, he ate messily and happily since fries were involved. And then he asked for the iPad, which we gave him. He watched some videos and played some games while we finished lunch, and after I gave him a 5-minute warning, he accepted the end of iPad.
So I’ve reached an uneasy alliance with my electronic babysitter when eating out. I’m not sure what the future holds yet, but I hope he won’t turn into the eight year old who’s absorbed in a PSP for two hours, not engaging in conversation with the people around the table.
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Uma is a Malaysian working mum with a French husband and a toddler named Alex living in their fourth country together.
Image credit: Flickr user Lentini
