My young pilot whale – a poem of varying pace about teenagers and social media/gaming distractions an the family unit

You start out as a parent with all good intentions,
I’ve spent decades honing skills before their creation.

So they’re going to be outgoing, kind, and clever and bright,

And when they enter a room dark parts will turn light.  

A Dr, a Vet now choose something linked to money!

“What about happiness?” he asks,

”Oh yes of course that matters too, little buddy!?”

Yes all of this is true and yes I do bore people who have no kids about how amaaaazing they are…

’Oh my god..when you have kids they will light up your lives…’  

‘No really..we’re fine..and really happy with our well trained labrador.’ they reply

As they know the truth as they’ve seen me out losing the plot with mine, two occasions before!

You see, what we roll out on show, what you see in the restaurants and in the parks,

But that theatrical show is fiction, the reality is stark!

They last a short while like that, once the bill has been paid and we’ve driven back home,
But the ‘nice pill’ we made them swallow just before we allowed them in public to roam,

well it’s all but worn out and the whales are re-born.

Movement at a pace which would give a sloth some self-esteem

When you combine that with chores or family or team,

Well it grinds to a halt and the house becomes a maze,

as they shoot off into corners or sit in the fridge and just graze.  

The best challenge to date, without a doubt, and this includes working for 3 decades
Is levering the teenager out of bed at seven, which you do with picks and spades.

You daren’t touch him for fear of the painful whale pitch,

And as he swings his legs out, you can see there’s a hitch.  

Now every action and minute of his breathe,

needs to be accompanied by the device, that if removed…..causes death,
If Steve Jobs was alive today, I would say ‘was there thought given when designing that thing that this might cause families such pain

and the addiction factor added, is like my kids are on cocaine.  

But we are responsible and need to take a stand

on separating that device which is glued onto his hands
But the solvent needed to peel skin from hardened plastic

is in the form of my shouting and well, that’s fantastic  

To keep the peace in the house, but we need bind their hands,
But their Escobar, the wifi, well I’m now Custar, and this my last stand.  

We all know how that ended and Mr Jobs, so please don’t be offended as you rest up there, listening to this moan and without a care.

Your billions mattered at the time you were here, and I know you measured success differently when the end became too clear.  

But the technical advances you made over the years

are now shadowed by lost parents, of which I’m one..right here
To ask how do we take back the last few years,

where snapchat stories, insta and the occasional tweet,  

Replaced walks in forests and beaches and steps made by our feet?

Let’s get back to the house with the angsty teen, because since we left him 2 verses back, he’s gone to a permanent horizontal..from a lazy lean  

Against every upright surface which he finds, but my patience and temper, it’s starting to grind. You see I blame X factor for too much in life, murdering music – plain to see, but mostly for making my kids truly believe that someone will pluck them from obscurity.

Yes, you are all special, every kid born created has an amazing skill but what happens when no-one notices them, will they end up taking pills,

For depression and anxiety as life isn’t going the way inspirational facebook posts have stated and planned, so as a parent I’ve tried to take matters into my own hands.

So what I expect from my textbook, wholemeal, no smoke, detox millennial existence, my fortitude and hypocritical parental persistence, is a little less teenage resistance?  

And as I flat spin into causes and therapy using Google, I cry out loud as I hit ‘enter’

as my attention to their growth has been all too clearly frugal.

We should be finding it hard to count the times we spoke throughout the week,

Because I know you’ve lost count over the past 2 years how many times you’ve snapchat streaked.

Well I checked your phone and at last sight 2 million was the amount

of interactions received and sent, and how many between us? Zero was the count!

So can we all just stop, take stock and as we know what’s wrong or right,

As I know a million parents are out there who hear their kids yelling at that drug they call Fortnite.

We cannot blame the x factor, or online gaming tools,

when it’s us that have taken the easy route to parenting – we’re the fools.

Now our excuse when us parents get together in our dimly lit alcohol filled kitchen

After we’ve assassinated work colleagues with cathartic Olympic level bitching

“Is that we can’t stop the Fortnite as our angels will suffer from social exclusion?”

Sorry!? Isn’t the answer some good old fashioned parental collusion?  

So this entrepreneurial gaming guy with Bentley, house and Billions,

Is sipping cocktails every 30 seconds with upgrades from us minions?

My proposition for you therefore is clear, as Disney knocks on my door for the rights to Star Wars part 12 – The Parent Clones Strike Back!

Because our little Jedis are actually amazing and they fill our hearts with smiles,

And to keep them safe from harm we’d walk bare foot for them for miles!

So let us all stand, at the start of the month, to the Narcos best export – the wifi.

And at the strike of nine, flick switch and hear our little beached-whales cry!

But their eyes will dry and with any addiction that loses its grip,

as our keys unpick their shackles, as we jump on different ships

Falling to the seabed, salt water rusts the locks,

Our keys are safe and dried out now, bring on the tech detox!  

©PEDRO-BATPOET 2018

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