Day 31: Mummy Bed, Blue iPad

A Late Night, A Lazy Morning

Last night ended up being a late one for everyone. River had a late nap so there was zero point trying for his usual bedtime. Instead, we discovered Fortune Hotel on ITV and all watched that until just after 10pm before putting the kids to bed. It’s lovely when we find shows we can all enjoy with Summer. We’ve worked our way through The Traitors from Australia, America and New Zealand. River, of course, was just happy to be up. Sometimes he joined in when we shouted at the TV, other times he bounced on one of us or simply played contentedly with his coins.

So, this morning started early. Kike got up with River at 6.30am while I stayed asleep. Summer had decided she wanted to go to holiday club, so I surfaced to make her packed lunch, waved her off and suddenly it was just River and me.

I pottered about tidying and putting the washing on before River climbed into my bed with his very persuasive routine:
“Mummy bed.”
“Mummy get in the bed?” I replied.
“Mummy under blanket.”
And so, of course, I did. Back under the covers we went, his iPad between us. I resisted my phone and just joined him.

Watching Pikmin Together

We ended up in the strange, sprawling world of YouTube: specifically, a someone playing a video game called Pikmin. Little plant creatures exploring gardens. I wasn’t overly sure on the details but River was captivated. He named the creatures, added sound effects, spoke little phrases in sync with the video:
“Watch out!”
“Where are you going?”
“It’s very dark in here.”

It was as though he’d stepped right into the game. And he loved that I was there, watching with him.

My Opinion on iPads (Brace Yourself)

Now, this might be controversial. Maybe in twenty years someone will show me this and say I was wrong, but for now – I go with what works for our family. River adores his iPad (his “blue one”) and we don’t set strict limits. He uses it whenever he needs it. I’ve set all the safety features so nothing inappropriate sneaks through but otherwise he explores freely.

When I say freely, I don’t mean completely unsupervised and I don’t mean invisible. He usually sits on one of us, or has the sound blasting so loudly I know exactly what he’s watching from any room. In fact, I could tell you his playlist by heart because it’s almost always the same handful of favourites.

And here’s the thing: the screen has always been River’s safe space. It calms him. It engages him. It gives him a voice. Many of his scripts, his words, even his understanding of the world come from the videos he chooses. River doesn’t process verbal instructions well, he needs visuals. Where I can, I’ll provide these myself but why wouldn’t I also use a tool that can do it instantly?

But What About Other People’s Opinions?

I know not everyone agrees. iPads, screens, YouTube, they’re loaded topics in parenting circles. Too much screen time. Bad for attention. Lazy parenting. I’ve heard it all.

But I sometimes wonder if people who criticise screens have ever really sat with their child and joined them in it. Have they entered their world instead of seeing it as a barrier? Have they noticed how screens can be tools, for calm, for communication, for connection rather than just distractions?

For River, the iPad isn’t passive. It’s interactive, immersive. It’s how he finds words, practices scripts and processes ideas.

Just as my younger self loved TV – so much so that I bought my own set and subscriptions at 15 and later studied media at university. I would watch the same film over and over again as it brought me joy and calmness when I needed it.

River loves his screen. It’s part of his personality, his learning, his joy.

Should he be on it all day, every day? No.
Is he on it all day, every day? Also no.
For us, it’s balance. And right now, it works.

Emerging from the Blanket Cave

Eventually, we surfaced from our cocoon and went to a playdate with one of River’s nursery friends. He knew the house, the toys, the routine and settled easily into the change of scene. Watching him and his friend was lovely. They played near each other, not with each other. Talking aloud, but not to one another. Two little orbits, close enough to acknowledge but not quite colliding. Safe.

By 3pm, though, the tiredness hit. “I want to go home.” Not screamed, just said with a small cry and a rub of the eyes. I tempted him to stay awake with cupcakes from the shop (his shorthand for any sweet treat.) He perked up briefly, chose sprinkle donuts and then promptly fell asleep mid-bite, donut still in hand.

Sunshine and a Friday Drink

The sun came out as I went to push him home. With Summer due to be collected later, I decided to meet Kike at the pub for a quick Friday drink before the four of us regrouped. Dinner, more TV and perhaps another late night stretched ahead.

I’ll have to find another show we can all watch or maybe even a film. As long as it isn’t Jurassic Park – Kike’s choice last time and pretty sure we left another trauma print..

Grateful for Our Version of Parenting

Lying in bed this morning with River tucked under the blanket, watching him laugh at tiny Pikmin running through their digital gardens, I realised something. This is our version of parenting, possibly unconventional, but ours.

Yes, his iPad is a constant presence. Yes, people have opinions. But it gives him comfort, gives him words, gives him joy. And for me, it gives something else too, the chance to step into his world and see it through his eyes.

Not everyone will understand and that’s okay. Because I know that when River says “Mummy bed” and pulls me close, when he repeats his favourite scripts, when he finds calm in a screen it’s all connection.

I used to worry over mornings like this. Worry that I should be at the park, should be doing a puzzle or baking with him. But he doesn’t want to do those things. This morning is a reminder that parenting isn’t about following everyone else’s rules it’s about finding the ones that work for your child, your family, your rhythm.

But obviously, if I never hear baby shark again it wouldn’t be the worse thing.