Ha.
On the first day of break, they only budge from the family room to complain outside my study door.
Knock. knock. "Mom, Huckle's making noises at me."
Knock, knock. "Mom, Sally's using clay near my fountain pen."
Knock, knock. "Mom, he flapped his hand in my face." "That's because she made a face at me!" "Can we play Minecraft, pleeeeease?"
I break down and give them 30 minutes of Minecraft, because I need to get some work done. And because sometimes it feels like Minecraft is the only world in which my children get along.
If you've never heard of Minecraft, you likely don't hang out with a kid aged 8-13. Not that I really understand this sort-of video game. As far as I can tell (from being called over to admire whatever's on the computer screen), Minecraft is a virtual world where players build elaborate towers, tunnels, and houses. They can also add the challenge of avoiding or fighting zombies, wolves, and "creepers."
Huckle and Sally can't get enough Minecraft time and, in their opinion, DON'T get enough Minecraft time. That's because Husband and I impose strict limits. It's not that I'm against Minecraft; in fact, I'm grateful for it. No matter how much Huckle and Sally bicker in real life, they work beautifully together in this virtual life. They cooperate on joint projects! They admire each other's work! They take into account each other's preferences! I get a break of refereeing, disentangling, and punishing! The glow even lasts after their game time ends -- they spend hours scheming together, planning how they'll spend their next precious Minecraft minutes.
So part of me would love to give in and let them have a Minecraft summer -- hours of time spent agreeably agreeing. Peace would reign. But a bigger part of me feels that my kids need to play OUTSIDE in that great big world that they claim to long for during the busy, schedule-laden school season. We've got a big yard and a nice neighborhood -- surely they can find enough things to do and enough space to not argue? (Or least argue beyond my hearing range?) Surely we don't have to resort to a Minecraft summer?
Husband and I talked it over. We decided to try some new rules this summer: each kid starts the day with a certain number of minutes but can earn more by playing outside. Every hour outside earns 10 minutes on the computer.
Day 1. Sally's at a friend's house for the morning (guess what she and her friend played?). Huckle checks the clock and heads outside to accrue Minecraft minutes. He wanders around the yard. He comes back in to check the clock again. He offers to water plants. Checks the clock. Wanders barefoot to the local playground. Gets stung by an insect so hightails it back home. Checks the clock. Asks if lawn mowing would count toward earning game time.
It goes on like this for two hours. Then he sits down in relief to play his 20 minutes of accumulated Minecraft time.
When Sally returns, they spend the afternoon outside reading books, checking the clock, and talking about what they'll do with their accrued Minecraft time.
"It was peaceful and they spent a lot of time in the backyard, but it's not really what we intended," I tell Husband that night. "I want them to ENJOY being outside. To play and explore and feel independent."
I have no idea how to attain that. How strange. What do I need to do -- teach my kids how to play?
Day 2. Sally and Huckle start the morning with their 15 minutes of Minecraft and then head outside to earn more minutes. But today is better -- they rediscover the muddy part of our yard where one summer they spent hours every day digging a big hole. The next year the hole became a deep lake in a system of rivers and islands caused by the hose. They called this area The Digging Spot. I called it Cheap Summer Camp -- hours of entertainment for the price of a trickling hose and a laundry load of muddy clothing.
I'm thrilled that they spend the whole morning out there without running in to check on the clock. Until an angry bee stings Huckle and, when I go out there to play hero, stings me too (on my lip! hours before I am scheduled to meet a new pharmaceutical client!). Then they head back inside playing the 20 minutes of Minecraft they earned and analyze their strategies in great detail.
Still, the morning was a success and bodes well for a peaceful summer (once we get rid of the bees). A summer of outdoor fun and sibling cooperation in a non-virtual world. A summer not ruled by Minecraft. Perfect!
Then, as I'm telling Husband out their outdoor fun, a funny thought strikes me. I picture the mud towers, bark homes, and mossy lawns they built that day on the islands of The Digging Spot. And I realize they were basically playing Minecraft, just playing it outside with non-virtual materials. Were those angry bees just nature's zombies?
Ha! But it IS outdoor play. And they were engaged enough to stop checking the clock. So if that's what a Minecraft summer looks like, then I'm good with that. We'll call it... Mudcraft.
