Parents trying to raise healthy kids in our toxic culture frequently describe how alone they feel: “All the other parents let their kids play vacuous, violent, addictive video games.” Parents also feel overwhelmed. “We both have jobs. Do you know what it costs to live in this city?” Parents feel stunned into submission. “We can’t take off work to be at home policing our child’s every interaction with the computer.” 
Parents also feel conflicted: “Besides, the kid needs the computer to do Internet research and send in homework. How are we supposed to know if he spends a few minutes playing vacuous, violent, addictive, video games?”
In actuality, parents make choices like the one about video games all the time. Indeed, it could be argued that as parents, making decisions about what are kids are going to do is our primary responsibility.
From potty training (we don’t pee in the living room) to choice of high school (our morning commute does not involve the suburbs of Paris) parents help kids to make the choices that reflect the values of the family. You are able–required–to make suggestions about where your kids pee. Why do you feel helpless to help them determine whether or not they will be at risk for living in your basement until they’re 30 years of age because all they know how to do is play vacuous, violent, addictive, video games and did I mention that last time I checked the want ads nobody was looking to hire somebody with strong thumbs, no skills, and a predilection for slaughtering graphic ogres in a glowing rectangle?
The other half is that there needs to be an alternative to vacuous, violent, addictive, video games. I wouldn’t want to make the case, “You can’t play violent, addictive video games” and then go on to say, “And you can’t do anything else fun either, now go sit in your room by yourself and solve an equation or something.” Love includes involvement. Love means never having to say, “You’ve played ‘League of Legends’ for three hours today already, I told you to do your homework, I need a drink” because you already took your kid hiking or drove her and her friend to the bank of the river and watched them cavort and push each other into the water. You can go ahead and return an email while you watch them play for all I care.
If you can’t be home to cook dinner, at least you can make sure that your kids eat McBlech only occasionally. If you can’t be involved in tossing a ball or going on a hike or bringing a cooler to the beach or playing a board game or renting a cabin in the woods, then AT LEAST ensure that the kids aren’t playing violent, addictive video games.
Or as the Keanu Reeves character said in “Parenthood:” “… you need a license to buy a dog or drive a car. Hell, you need a license to catch a fish. But they’ll let any [expletive deleted] be your father.”
Surely, we can do better than that.
No matter how alone, overwhelmed, and stunned we may feel.
