• There's a world beyond the screen. I've seen too many kids who've lost the art of eye contact, their attention perpetually focused on their fingertips. And you can add me to that group. While I try to resist, I get sucked in way more often than I should. I know how easy it is to center your life on a screen and lose sight of everything around you. The reality is that if I'm looking down, I'm not paying attention to the people in front of me. Or taking in the first blooms of spring. Or being inspired by an elderly couple staring into each other's eyes. I want more for my daughter. I want her to see the world - and not just on YouTube.
• It sets us up for a constant battle. While we allow our daughter to watch television, we do try to limit it. Yet even those efforts bring on complaints and aggravated eye rolls. I can only imagine the battles we'd have trying to disconnect her from the Kindle. Yes, we could set limits on her screen time. But do we really need something new to argue over?
• What's she looking at, anyway?
My daughter has (thankfully) outgrown Dora, and is always looking for new shows to watch. Fortunately, with the TV in the living room, I can sit down and watch TV with her. I can decide which shows are appropriate, and provide context for anything confusing. Handheld devices offer less opportunity for such oversight. I know there are parental controls, but I'm still uncomfortable with a screen I can't easily see - especially one that's connected to the internet.
• With a great device comes great responsibility. Winter just started, and already my daughter has misplaced 90 per cent of her hats and gloves. She's only five. I expect her to lose those things. I'd be much more upset if she lost a Kindle, and so would she.
• Little brother, big problems. My daughter has a two-year-old brother with boundary issues. Last night at dinner, a 20-minute screaming match ensued when he insisted on using her Frozen silverware set. Imagine the decibel levels around here should a shiny electronic gadget enter the picture.
• It's a Zen thing. Perhaps most importantly, my daughter has an amazing way of being still. We frequently drive six hours to visit my in-laws. During these trips, sometimes she naps, sometimes she colors, sometimes she plays with dolls. But frequently, she just sits. Being able to be quiet and contemplative - to be in the moment - is a gift that should be nourished. While I support parents who rely on tablets to keep their kids sane in the car, my daughter seems to be fine without this distraction. And I'd like to keep it that way for just a little longer.
I know we can't postpone the inevitable forever. Our daughter may eventually need one of these devices for school, or beg until we can't take it anymore. But I like to think we can nourish her imagination and encourage her to live in the present for just a little longer.
And so we had the awkward conversation and returned the Kindle. It was uncomfortable and confusing, but right for our family. After all, those Angry Birds will probably still be peeved a few years from now - when we're ready to enter the 21st century as a family.
