I Am Being Watched

About 8 months ago, my wife gave birth to a beautiful little girl named Margot. As she becomes more aware of the world around her, I’ve noticed that she stares at me whenever I’m in the room. Constantly. She always wants to make eye contact. She’s always looking for me to engage with her in some way. She’s a sponge right now for human interaction.



The other day, I planted Margot on the floor with some toys and she happily began playing. In an almost unconscious habit whenever I have a short moment of free time in between tasks, I took the brief respite to pull out my phone and check my mail. 60 seconds later after reading a couple messages and deleting a few more, I looked up from the screen to see that Margot had stopped playing and was staring at me. “This is how it begins,” I thought. I’m showing her my screen deserves my attention at the moment more than she does.



Although my wife and I decided before Margot was born to explicitly not spend time in front of screens while she’s in the room or park her in front of a screen for the sake of entertainment, even going so far as to cancel our cable, I’ve been caught in this same scenario at least half a dozen times. And each time I scold myself (“Bad Father! Bad Father!”) and swear to myself I’m never going to do it again.



And why do I feel so strongly about this? Because there is absolutely nothing on any screen that is more important than the time I spend with my kid, especially at this stage of her development.



But if “multi-tasking” with a screen and interaction with my child bothers me so much because I’m worried about the lesson she’ll take away from it, why do I find it perfectly acceptable to behave this way around my wife, family, co-workers, and friends?



Older kids and adults are obviously more sophisticated than my 8 month old, but I’d argue the lesson they may learn from my and other’s behavior is essentially the same as what Margot is learning now, regardless of the current social acceptability of checking your screen at will (or soon, wearing them.)



The problem, however, is whether you like it or not, you’re still conveying the message that your screen at that moment is more important than the person you’re with. Like my baby daughter, they’re watching you behave this way. And I suspect instead of finding it perfectly “acceptable,” your companion(s) find it hurtful, annoying, or just rude, even if they’re behaving exactly the same way.



Seeing my behavior through the eyes of my child has made me take notice of what is competing for my attention. Since abandoning my phone or laptop is not an option, I’ve started to try and change my behavior to make the people I care about feel like they have my full attention. I’ve started to ask permission of my wife to use my laptop or phone while I’m in the same room as her so she knows my focus will be elsewhere temporarily. If we go out to dinner I don’t put my phone on the table for passive monitoring, I keep it in my pocket. And in our office, if someone wants my attention, I try to look at them directly and even close my laptop lid so they know I’m not focused on anyone but them.



I’m fearful that in 2028 when my daughter is 15 and happens upon her Dad’s ancient blog posts from 2013, the notion of being in the moment without some pervasive device will seem quaint and she’ll laugh at how old fashioned I sound.



But I hope not. Instead I hope within that 15 years the notion of screens competing for our attention while spending time with other people will have come and gone. And instead of those screens just becoming more transparent via glasses, contacts, watches, or some other wearable device, we collectively decide the quaint notion is feeling like we needed to be that connected in the first place.









