Posted in honor of my darling youngest, who, according to the old rules of time, turns 8 today. May she and may we all invent new rules of time in 2019.
***
Scene: one evening a couple of weeks ago before the kids stopped school and I stopped attempting to regulate … anything.
Me: I’m setting the timer for 10 minutes and then you’re done with screen time.
A: OK.
[10 minutes later, the alarm goes off.]
Me: OK, time to stop.
A [defiantly]: No! That’s not right. That wasn’t 10 minutes.
Me [weakly, feeling I am being inexorably pulled into a fight the way that spaceships in movies are pulled into larger spaceships by tractor beams, or into black holes by gravity]: Dude. It was. Come on. Turn it off.
A [her energy seeming to grow as mine depletes, like she’s a Dementor]: NO. Mom, for real, your clock doesn’t work. When you set your clock for 10 minutes it goes straight to 9 minutes and THAT’S NOT HOW TIME WORKS. So I get an extra minute.
Me [losing patience and wrenching the iPad from her hands]: My clock is working, you don’t get an extra minute.
A [beginning to cry in fury and frustration]: but it’s actually not fair because your clock really doesn’t work properly, I’ve seen it.
Me [softening, unsure if she is messing with me or genuinely confused]: OK, let me show it to you so you can see how it works.
A: Fine.
Me: OK, so you see, I set it for 10 minutes, then I press start, and then—
A [interrupting]: IT WENT STRAIGHT TO 9, THAT’S NOT HOW TIME WORKS, IT LEFT OUT A WHOLE MINUTE. [Now full on sobbing in frustration]
Me: OK, I see why you’re confused, you think because the 10 turns to a 9 it’s skipped a minute, but see how it’s counting down 59, 58, 57 … we are still in that 10th minute until it gets down to zero, and then there’s 9 minutes left. Look, see, now it’s coming down to 9 minutes and now it’s—
A [incensed]: IT SKIPPED ANOTHER MINUTE, IT WENT STRAIGHT TO 8
Me: OK, I’m not doing a good job explaining this but you just have to take my word for this that my clock IS right, this IS how time works, and the 10 minutes IS up.
A [not backing down]: THAT’S NOT HOW TIME WORKS.
Me [my voice growing shrill as the urge to make this a teachable moment slips away]: Well, maybe it isn’t, but that’s what the rules are.
A: Well whoever made the rules of time was really stupid.
Me [mad that I have let myself become embroiled in an argument about the nature of time]: Maybe they were but these are the rules we have.
A: WELL THEY’RE WRONG.
Me [with the weariness of one who knows her actions belie her words]: I am NOT having this argument with you right now. When you grow up you can be a physicist and make up new rules of time and then maybe we’ll use your rules. But until then, these are the rules we’re using and—
A [yelling]: I WILL DO THAT AND I WILL DANCE ON THE GRAVE OF THE OLD PHYSICIST WHO MADE UP THESE STUPID RULES OT TIME.
Her declaration seems to come as a surprise to both of us.
Me [still angry but unable to keep myself from giggling slightly hysterically]: you’ll do what? Where did that come from?
A: [speaking over me and also still angry but also giggling slightly hysterically]: I’ll dance on their grave. It didn’t come from anywhere! It came from my head.
Me [half sighing, half giggling and shaking my head]: OK, well, good for you, you can do that … later, but for now IT’S MY RULES OF TIME and it’s time to have a bath.
A: OK. [determinedly re-assuming a sulky demeanor] But that’s not how time works.
*The next day*
Me: I’m setting the timer for 10 minutes and then you’re done with screen time.
A: OK.
Me [hesitating before setting the alarm]: And none of that “oh-that’s-not-how-time-works” business when the alarm goes off. OK?
A: Fine. [under her breath] But that’s still not how time works.