Carter, your addiction to the PBS Video App is affecting me in the following ways:

I love to hear you call my name above everyone else’s  in the morning when you are ready to get up. I love to slowly open the door and see you standing at the edge of the crib grinning from ear to ear with your wild curls and arms extended waiting for my embrace. Ever since I downloaded the PBS Video App on my phone, I’ve seen a change in you. You will lure me into your room by calling my name but then when I open the door you immediately start asking for Elmo or Caillou. It’s deceptive and heartbreaking.

It pains me to watch you kick and scream begging for the phone as you violently throw yourself on the floor.  When I eventually give in and turn it on for you I slowly watch you fade away from us. It’s as if you retreat into your own little Sesame Street filled world. I’ll call out to you and you won’t respond. “Carter. Carter. Carter. Carter. Carter. Look at mommy. Carter. Carter. Carter. Can you hear me, Carter?” Silence. The only time you seem to acknowledge my existence is when you’ve pushed the wrong button and can’t figure out how to get back to the video. You run to me angrily as if it’s my fault, but what you don’t realize is that your lack of patience and excessive screen touching is the real cause. And then there are the times when the video you want to watch won’t load at all. I’ve never witnessed such a deep rooted rage over a poor internet connection.

Your addiction is taking over your life and I see the affect it is having on your relationship with your big brother. You become possessive and often violent when he asks to watch something with you. I’ve seen  you hit him over the head with it simply because he wanted a turn holding it. The other day in the car you screamed from the time we left the house until we arrived at school. “Monkey! Monkey! Elmo! Caillou! I want it! I want it!” Deklan and I tried everything we could think of to get your mind off the phone. We sang Jesus Loves Me; we turned up the Hello song really loud; he tried to hand you books, balls, and even his beloved blankey and you threw them all back in his face. I calmly attempted to reason with you explaining there is more to life than Elmo, but my words were lost in the depth of your screams. Later that same evening after dinner you started screaming for Elmo again. Deklan looked at you and with a heavy sigh said, “Ugh. Carter, there’s more to life than Elmo.” I could sense he shared my level of exasperation by the tone in his voice. It’s time to seek the help you need.

We are all here today because we love you and we want our old silly Carter back. The one who would dance on command and jump off the couch onto brother’s lap over and over again. You remember when you would laugh so hard you would get hiccups and then that would make Deklan laugh because he thinks it’s funny when babies get hiccups? Now all you want to do is sit on the couch with the phone. You have your whole life ahead of you to get sucked into the pitfalls of the mobile world we live in. I’m begging you to put down the phone and be present with us. I take responsibility for my part in your addiction. I’m an enabler. I give into you more often than I should because 30 minutes of screaming is unbearable, I’m exhausted, and well, you’re the second child.  I know I once said I hate reading to you, but if you get the help we are offering you today I promise I will read books to you whenever you want as a welcomed distraction from the phone.

With love and desperation,

Your mother