I went to brunch yesterday.
They were setting up a long table next to us. In walked two, maybe three families. Six adults. Seven or eight kids. Loud. Happy. Chaotic in that good, alive way.
They sat down: all the adults at one end, all the kids at the other.
After the ordering drama settled, the grown-ups leaned in and started catching up.
And then it happened.
Every kid — pre-teen range — pulled out an iPod, a Nintendo, a screen of some sort. Heads down. Thumbs moving. Occasional, "Hey, look at this," followed by a shared glance at a screen… and then back to isolation.
They looked content.
But they weren't talking.
Not really.
The adults chatted away, seemingly unaware that their children were sitting three feet from each other… and miles apart.
I feel like an old man writing this.
But here it is anyway.
Those kids could have been laughing. Teasing. Negotiating who gets the last fry. Learning how to interrupt. Learning how to tolerate being interrupted. Learning how to read a face that looks annoyed. Learning how to recover from saying something dumb.
That's where social skills are built. Not in theory. In friction.
The less they interact now, the harder it will be later.
And yes, I see the later.
My waiting room is filled with thirty-something couples who don't know how to communicate. They text each other from different rooms. They avoid conflict until it explodes. They tell me, "We just can't connect."
Meanwhile, their kids are struggling socially. Awkward. Anxious. On the fringes. Parents whisper words like "spectrum" and "Asperger-ish" when what I often see is something simpler and more painful:
Under-practiced humanity.
This isn't good for families. It's not good for society.
It may be good for my business. But I'd rather have fewer clients and stronger communities.
So here's my plea.
Unplug.
Limit screen time. Not because screens are evil — but because they're powerful. And powerful things need boundaries.
Eat dinner together. A lot. Not once a week. A lot.
On car rides, forfeit the videos sometimes. Let boredom do its work. Boredom is the doorway to conversation.
Call, don't text. Visit, don't just call. Play Scrabble, not Words With Friends.
Yes, I sound like a cranky grandfather.
I'm okay with that.
Because I sit with the long-term consequences of short-term convenience.
Connection is warmer than a screen.
It's messier. Slower. More awkward at times. But it builds something muscle-like inside a person — the ability to tolerate silence, repair conflict, read emotion, stay in the room.
Try connecting. Not eConnecting. Not iConnecting.
Just connecting.
It's warmer that way.
And if you're realizing your family has drifted into parallel play with Wi-Fi… it's not too late.
These patterns can be interrupted.
That's work worth doing.
Ready to break the cycle?
Schedule a Consultation