by Dan Walsh
Taryn glanced at the front door. No sign of Samantha yet. She looked around at the other customers sitting outside and her thoughts returned, once again, to the topic she had been pondering before Samantha showed up. Taryn was the only person here whose face wasn’t glued to some kind of electronic screen. IPads, smartphones, laptops, you name it. Before Thanksgiving Day, she’d probably have joined right in.
She had a smartphone but deliberately left it in her purse, refusing to look at it the entire time she was here. To help, she’d turned the volume off. The front door opened and Samantha walked out, all smiles. Taryn looked at her watch. She couldn’t lose track of the time.
Samantha said, “You have to go?”
“In a few minutes. Gotta pick up Maddie from school.”
Samantha sat beside her. “What are you thinking about?”
“What do you mean?”
“When I came out, you were looking all around with this look on your face.”
Taryn smiled. “Okay, something’s been bothering me lately, ever since Thanksgiving Day.”
“What is it?”
Taryn lowered her voice. “Look around at all the people here. What’s the one thing they have in common?”
Samantha sipped her drink as she eyed the other patrons. A few moments later, she said, “I give up. Whatever it is, I’m not seeing it. I see men and women here, of various ages, wearing different colors and different styles of clothes. What am I missing?”
Taryn pointed to the smartphone that Samantha had set next to her drink, faceup. “That,” she said. “Your phone. Everyone here is looking at their phones. I noticed it inside, the same thing. Only some are using laptops in there. But no one’s talking. No one’s visiting or having any interaction with anyone else.”
Just then Samantha’s phone vibrated. She reached for it.
“Don’t you dare,” Taryn said.
Samantha turned her phone upside down on a napkin. “It’s no big deal. It’s just the way people communicate now. Why does it bother you?”
“Because I remember how it used to be just a few years ago when people weren’t like this. Back in the dumb phone days and before people had iPads. To go online you had to sit by your computer at home. Now we’re connected all the time, but no one pays any attention to the people they’re with.”
Samantha looked around again. “What started you off on this tirade?”
“I’m not on a tirade, it’s just starting to bother me.”
“You said ‘ever since Thanksgiving’ a second ago. What happened on Thanksgiving?”
“We all showed up to my parents’ house, like we do every year. All the kids and grandkids, my aunt and uncle. After my dad prayed, he announced a rule, no cell phones at the table. I realized a few hours later that was the only time we actually talked to each other the whole day. At one point, a whole bunch of us were sitting around the family room, and every single person—including me—were on our smartphones. The kids were all playing games on their iPads or some other touchscreen tablet. No one said a word. We were all lost in our own little worlds. For some reason, right then, it just really stuck out to me how wrong it is.”
“Did you say anything?”
“I did but in a joking way. No one picked up on it. So I got up and forced myself out to the patio to join the older relatives, who were actually visiting and getting caught up. I decided I don’t want to live with this addiction anymore.”
“Addiction . . . listen to you. You’re kidding, right?” Samantha took another sip.
“Kind of, but not really. I think it’s kind of an addiction. It’s like I have to constantly keep checking my phone, see if anybody’s tried to contact me. Check for texts, check my email, check Twitter, check Facebook. There’s always something there. And usually, it’s nothing important. But I treat it like it is and instantly respond. Then it starts all over again.” Taryn set her coffee down. “The worst part, to me, is the kids. Maddie included. They should’ve been outside playing. But every single one of them was on some kind of a device. The only physical activity going on was their fingers swiping the screen.”
Samantha laughed. “It’s sad but true. I was reading an article in a woman’s magazine this past weekend highlighting all the dangers of giving kids all these electronic devices when they’re so young. The article quoted some study that said it’s shutting down kids’ creativity and warping their communication skills.”
“I’m just as guilty,” Taryn said. “Maddie’s been using one for several years now. She’s on hers all the time. I realized I’ve been using it like a babysitter. It keeps her occupied and lets me get some things done around the house. But not this week. I started limiting her time to one hour, twice a day.”
“How’s that working out?”
“I won’t lie, it’s been a struggle. She’s pitched a fit a few times. But I figured out what the struggle is. Mostly it’s me. Now I have to spend time with her doing old-fashioned, nonelectronic things. But if I’m doing things with her, I have less time to do things I want to do. But that’s okay. Being a mom’s not supposed to be easy, right? It has been kind of tricky coming up with old-fashioned things we can do together. But I’m determined to make this work.”
“Old-fashioned moms have done it for generations,” Samantha said. “I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”
Taryn looked at her watch again. “Well, I’ve gotta pick Maddie up from school. It’s been great bumping into you.”
“You too, Taryn.” Samantha got a funny look on her face. “I just thought of something you and Maddie can do together. Something very old-fashioned and definitely not electronic.”
Taryn stood. “What?”
Samantha stood also and started walking toward the front door of the coffee shop.
“Where are you going?”
“Follow me. It’ll just take a sec. It’s a little flyer I saw taped to the glass near the front window. A mother-daughter class.”
Taryn picked up her purse and followed her.
“Here it is,” Samantha said. “It’s at that craft store down the road.”
Taryn began to read. This was perfect. A mother-daughter craft class making homemade Christmas ornaments together on Saturday mornings. She had Saturdays off. “I like this. I think Maddie will too. Thanks, Sam.” She reached into her purse and pulled out her phone.
“You going to call her?”
“No, taking a picture of the flyer.”
24
Taryn was happy to find an open angled parking space on Donnelly Avenue just a few doors down from the craft store she planned to visit. She was terrible at parallel parking, which was the only kind available on the other side of the street.
“After we visit this store,” her daughter Maddie said from the passenger seat, “then can I play with my tablet again?”
Taryn looked at her, tried to keep her composure. Seeing Maddie’s withdrawal symptoms, Taryn did not think addiction was too strong a word in her conversation with Samantha. She took a deep, calming breath. “Maddie, you can when we get home. It’s not even in the car anyway.”
“You didn’t bring it?”
“No, I didn’t bring it. And if you decide to use it right when we get home, your new time allowance will start then.”
“We’re still doing that?”
“Yes, we’re still doing that. And your attitude right now is helping me see how important it is to keep doing that.”
Maddie looked away, folded her arms in protest.
“Maddie . . .” Taryn waited. “Maddie, look at me.” She waited some more. Maddie finally turned her head and faced her mother. “I know this feels like a punishment to you, but cutting back the amount of time you can play on that thing—”
“It is a punishment.”
“No, it’s not. I’m trying to help you.”
“Help me? How is taking away my favorite thing to do helping me? Especially when I haven’t done anything wrong.”
Tary
n didn’t know if she could explain this, at least in a way a modern seven-year-old would understand. “I’m the one who’s done something wrong, and now I’m trying to fix it.”
“If you did something wrong, how come I’m the one being punished?”
“You’re not being punished, Maddie.”
“Feels like it.”
“It may feel like it. But, believe me, you’re not. It’s for your own good.” Taryn thought a moment. “It’s like your bedtime. If your father and I didn’t make you go to bed at eight thirty on school nights, how late would you stay up?”
“I don’t know. A lot later than that.”
“Right, and then you’d be miserable in the morning and probably fall asleep in class. But you know what happens every night . . . around nine o’clock?”
“What?”
“Either I or your father quietly open your bedroom door and check on you. And you know what we find, every night without fail?” Maddie shook her head. “We find you . . . sound asleep. And you know what that shows? That shows you need us to set boundaries for you. That’s how God set things up. All little kids need boundaries until they’re old enough to make the right decisions on their own.”
Maddie unfolded her arms. “You’re saying cutting how much I can play on my tablet is like my bedtime?”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
“But everyone else gets to play on their tablets as much as they want.”
“They’re not my little girl. You are. And I know I used to let you do it as much as you wanted, but I was wrong. And because of my mistake, you don’t even know how to play the way you used to, with regular kid toys.” Taryn pointed toward the craft store through the windshield. “And that’s why I stopped here today. I found out about a mother-daughter class they’re teaching at that craft store over there. I thought we could check it out, see if it’s something you and I would like to do together.”
“We would make crafts? You and me? What kind?” She was actually smiling.
“I’m not sure. Why don’t we go in and find out? I saw a flyer in a window a little while ago. It said something about making ornaments.”
“Christmas ornaments?”
Taryn nodded. “Would you like that?”
Maddie nodded. “But we haven’t even set our tree up yet.”
“We’re going to do that soon.”
“When?”
“Soon.” Taryn’s husband had been traveling a lot the last few weeks. “I’ll talk to your father tonight, and we’ll pick a night we know he’s going to be home. You want him to help us, right?”
“Yes.”
“Wouldn’t it be fun if we can hang some ornaments we made ourselves?”
Maddie’s face lit up.
“So, let’s go check it out.”
With both of their moods improved, Taryn and Maddie walked down the sidewalk toward the craft store. Maddie even reached for her mother’s hand. When they reached the front door, Taryn saw the same flyer about the ornament class taped to the window and pointed it out to Maddie. Once inside, Taryn bent down and whispered, “I’m going to go see about this class. You can look around, but stay away from the door and be careful about what you pick up. If it’s breakable, you probably should just look and not touch.”
“I’ll be careful.”
Taryn looked around the store. She spotted two women with name tags talking to other customers. She walked toward the woman in the back. She seemed to be speaking with more authority. Maybe she was the owner. As Taryn got closer, she noticed the women were standing by a long rectangular table. Spread out across the table were a variety of different craft supplies. A woman without a name badge held a clipboard and was writing things down. Did she work here too?
Taryn didn’t want to be rude, so she stood off to the side and looked through some craft items on the shelves. An easy distraction. They were all about Christmas.
A few moments later, a woman’s voice behind her said, “Is there anything I can help you with?”
Taryn turned. “I hope so.”
“My name is Doris. I’m the store owner. I see you’re browsing through our make-it-yourself section. Are you interested in making crafts?”
Taryn glanced down the aisle, saw Maddie looking at a stuffed reindeer. “I’m not much of a craft person. I mean, I like them. I just don’t know how to make them. But I saw your poster about a mother-daughter class.” Doris’s smile instantly got wider. Taryn noticed the woman with the clipboard was now looking her way. “I’ve been looking for something to do with my daughter. Something that doesn’t involve electronics or swiping your finger across a screen.”
Doris laughed. “Well, you’ve come to the right place. The only finger swiping going on around here might be to wipe some Elmer’s glue off on a napkin.” She turned as the woman with the clipboard walked up. “And you’ve also come at the right time. It just so happens the teacher of the class is here. This is Judith Winters.”
Taryn shook her hand. “You’re teaching the ornaments class?”
“I am.”
“We just started promoting it yesterday,” Doris said. “Customers have been asking about it all day.”
“Is there still time to sign up?”
“We have a few spots left.” Doris pointed at the table. “This is where Judith will be teaching. As you can see, it’s not a huge space, so we’ll have to go with first come, first served.”
“Well, we definitely want to sign up. Let me get my daughter, Maddie.” Taryn hurried down the aisle. Maddie was now holding some funny-looking elves. “C’mon, Maddie, there’s someone I want you to meet.”
“Who?” She took hold of Taryn’s hand and followed her to the back of the store.
“The woman who will be teaching us how to make ornaments.” She brought her to the two ladies.
Judith set her clipboard on the table and bent down to shake Maddie’s hand. “How do you do, young lady. What’s your name?”
“Maddie. It’s short for Madison.”
“That’s a beautiful name. And how old are you?”
“Seven. I’m in second grade now.”
“That’s a wonderful age. My oldest granddaughter is seven.”
“Will she be taking the class?”
Judith smiled. “No, she lives far away in a state called Virginia. But if she lived here, I’m sure she’d want to meet you.”
Doris looked at Taryn. “You probably saw on the flyer, there’s no charge for the class. The only cost will be buying the materials used to make the ornaments. That’s why Judith came down today, to look over what we have and decide which ornaments she’s going to teach the kids to make. I need to make sure I have everything because the class starts next Saturday.”
“Next Saturday,” Taryn said. “Good. I was hoping it wasn’t tomorrow, because we already have other plans. I don’t want to miss the first class.”
“You’re just in time,” Doris said.
“Say,” Judith said, still looking at Maddie. “I have an idea. We’ll have two Saturdays left before Christmas to do the classes. My goal is for the kids to make one ornament each class.”
“Do we get to keep them?” Maddie asked.
“You certainly do,” Judith said. “And you can help me make a decision. I’ve been thinking about the ornaments I’d like the kids to make. We only have time to make two. I’ve picked out one. But I’m having a hard time deciding which of the other two I like better. Can I show them to you, and you tell me which one’s your favorite?”
Maddie nodded yes. Taryn already loved this lady.
Judith led her to the table and showed her the two ornaments she had in mind. “Look them over. Take your time. And tell me which one is your favorite.”
Maddie went back and forth between the two, then finally pointed to the same one Taryn was looking at: a cute little reindeer made from wine corks and pipe cleaners.
“I like that one. Good choice,” Judith said.
Taryn look
ed at Doris and said, “Where do we sign up?”
25
Tomorrow morning was Judith’s first ornament-making class at the craft store. She was a little nervous, but not about making the ornaments themselves. Doris had given her the materials to practice at home last weekend. Now Judith could make them in her sleep. They were really quite simple.
She was more nervous about teaching the class, interacting with the parents and kids. How would she do? Would she be able to explain things easily? Would they be disappointed after? Teaching was something she used to be good at, and loved. She had gotten her degree in elementary education and taught school for several years before her kids were born. But she and Stan had decided she’d be a stay-at-home mom, so the last time she had taught a class with kids was over thirty years ago.
Before he had left for work, Stan had seen her fiddling with the ornaments at the dining room table and asked her if she was excited about teaching the class tomorrow. All she could manage was a long pause. He’d asked what was wrong, so she told him.
“Haven’t taught kids for thirty years?” he repeated back to her. “What are you talking about? You taught Anna, Brandon, and Suzanne everything they know.”
But this was different. That was just life, a mom with her kids. Classroom teaching was different.
Her phone rang. Her eyes scanned the living room until she found it sitting on the end table closest to the Christmas tree. She picked it up and noticed that the Christmas tree lights were still off. There was the green plug lying on the floor near the socket. That was the last thing Stan had said before walking out the door: “Don’t forget to plug in the tree.”
Looking at the screen, she saw it was Suzanne, which instantly made her smile. “Good morning. How are things in Texas?”
“Things are freezing cold in Texas,” Suzanne said. “I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to the wind here. It blows so much stronger. You know when they say ‘wind chill factor,’ well, that really matters here.”