The tricky business of coaxing a teenager away from his video games

We’re an active family. My husband is a lifelong avid fisherman. He’s taken to kayak fishing in the last few years and we all enjoy taking a turn in the boat. I try to get to the gym with some regularity. I also love that living so close to downtown, I can do a lot of walking with, and without, the menagerie of beasts that I call family. My wee one is an adorable, and very dedicated, ballerina who spends four or five days a week at dance class. She also regularly asks to try different sports and activities. And then, there’s the boy child.

Active is not the term I would use to describe this one. True, he has year-round parkour/free running instruction and works every week on his junior lifeguard certificate. He’s even on a basketball team and holds a part-time job. But, he would rather not do any of this (except for the job – he really likes money). For he is a teenager and prays at the alter of the video game Gods.

It wasn’t always like this. I could barely get the child to sit still for all of his younger years. He regularly crawled across the back of the couch, climbed just about everything and when forced to sit still, was the king of the fidgeting leg. We even installed rock climbing holds on our kitchen wall because we couldn’t stop him from using the wainscoting and door jams for leverage.

Fast forward to the pre-teen years and the transformation to sloth began. After a full day of being bound to a desk at school, I figured he would rush home and look for ways to move. Instead, he planted himself firmly in front of the Xbox, like a junkie on a bender that has lasted for three years.

Last weekend, we were blessed with some amazing, un-fallike weather. Multiple suggestions that the boy get outside and enjoy it were expertly deflected with shrugs, grunts and non-committal mumbling. Determined to get him moving, Brian kept at it.

Eventually, the teenager admitted that he was waiting for a game he had just purchased to download and capitulated to his father’s repeated requests.

Soon, they were shooting hoops in the driveway, tossing a frisbee and then planning a trip down to the beach. There was laughter and teasing. Brian definitely earned some parenting stripes and we were pretty proud of ourselves.

They set off to the beach in a light mood and I waved them away from the door, wearing my favorite apron and making plans for a meat and potato dinner. It was like a scene from a cheesy, father-son bonding, greeting card commercial.

A few hours later they returned, worn down by the fresh, beach air and warm sunshine. The boy immediately sought an outlet to charge his phone. When it was revealed that his game had not yet finished downloading, he started looking for one of the many game-type devices that he possesses (or, that possess him).

I found Brian laughing to himself, which is never good. When I inquired about the source of his amusement, he informed me that they had a great time at the beach. They have a special spot they like to fish from, but it requires a good long walk. They were meandering along the sand, chatting as they headed towards the spot when our mostly-lazy, but also brilliant, child stopped short.

“Wait a minute,” he declared, as comprehension dawned across his pasty white face, “you’re taking me for a walk!”

Now in our defense, it’s a lot easier to take the dogs for a walk. First, they’re eager to go and second, they just need a collar and leash.

Walking our plugged-in-all-the-time child requires finesse and skill. You can’t demand, for he will simply rebel and a fight will ensue, ending with a slammed door and a teenager who not only won’t leave the house, but won’t leave his room and has just put headphones on, to avoid having to hear you yell.

You also can’t gently suggest. You will be summarily ignored and shushed. Or, worse yet, there will be attempts to placate you with, “sure, in a minute,” or “yeah, I just need to do this thing.”

You have to make him think that he’s missing out on something. That what you have planned will bring joy and merriment, the likes of which he has never seen. The possibility that he might have more fun hanging out with his father than staring at a screen seems ludicrous at first, but then he remembers he’s waiting for that damn game to download anyway. He should just go. He knows we won’t leave him alone until he does.

Suddenly, it’s his idea. And that allows a miracle to occur. He actually has fun, a genuine good time. With a parent. Outside. It may have been short-lived, but for those few, glorious hours, he was a kid again. And we all had something to smile about.

Plus, he has an appreciation for psychology and found the walking idea pretty amusing. Therefore, he doesn’t hate us for “ruining his life” or “treating him like a child” or any of those other things teenagers say to their weary parents.

The meat and potato dinner just rounded out our Norman Rockwell-ish day. Except for the kale chips. I haven’t found them on a lot of early 1900s menus. I don’t know why not, though. They are so freaking good. As a matter of fact, I just finished off the leftover bag that I was hiding from my kids.

I know I shared the recipe here before, but it was nearly two years ago and I think it bears repeating. Particularly because this is the perfect time of year for kale. The cold snap we just had will make this leafy, green, nutritional powerhouse, taste even better.

Kale Chips

1 head kale, washed and dried
2 tablespoons olive oil
Sea salt

Preheat the oven to 275 degrees.
Remove the ribs from the kale and cut into 1 1/2-inch pieces, if you like them really uniform, or just cut in half. Put in a container with a tight seal and add olive oil and salt, to taste. Shake well, trying to get all kale covered with oil/salt mixture. Lay on a baking sheet. Bake until crisp, about 20 minutes. The edges will start to curl off the pan.

Sometimes, I think I’m raising a vampire. How do you get your video game junkie out into the light? I appreciate the suggestions because the church frowns upon me collecting holy water from the fonts.

Laurie Nigro, a mother of two, is passionate about her family, her community, and natural living. Laurie resides in downtown Riverhead and is co-founder of the River and Roots Community Garden on West Main Street.

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