Unicorns And iPads

One evening, we were getting you two ready for bed, and your mom said, “Zoey, don’t forget your unicorn and your iPad.” You answered, with that sweet, matter-of-fact voice: “Unicorn and iPad.” Just like that, I had an idea.

I think it works not just because you said it, and the way you said it was adorable, but also because it captures something about this moment in time—about parenting at a crossroads. We’re navigating the tension between the newest technology and the timeless charm of simpler toys and traditions.

Lukas and Zoey, you’re both growing up in the golden age of technology and to be honest, I don’t entirely know how I feel about it. I’m not the kind of parent who screams, “THAT’S ENOUGH SCREEN TIME!”—though maybe I should be at times. Instead, I find myself swinging like a pendulum between the positives and negatives of it all.

Not all screen time is equal. Lukas, for a while, your screen time revolved around Kids Learning Tube. For an entire year, you were obsessed. You learned about the solar system, countries, continents, the bones of the human body, and even how diseases work. You’d come to me with tidbits of information I didn’t know, and then you’d draw maps, quiz yourself on geography, and nail it every single time.

I’d tell your mom as we did dishes, “That kind of screen time can’t be bad. He’s learning more from YouTube than he is from me.” We’d laugh, but it wasn’t entirely a joke. The way information was presented on those channels sparked something in you—interest, excitement, and the joy of discovery. That’s a rare magic, and I’ll take it wherever I can find it.

Of course, there’s the flip side. Some videos are pure nonsense, and when I hear those, I tell you to turn them off. These days, you’re both into Minecraft, and from what I’ve seen, it’s a positive thing. It teaches creativity, problem-solving, and even math. But sometimes, especially on lazy weekends, I feel like it consumes you. That’s on me too—I can hear the judgmental parents saying, “Take them outside!” And we do. Parks, swimming, fishing, arcade trips, and just sitting by the water with coffee and hot chocolate. Zoey, you have your dance classes, and Lukas, you’ve tried art classes and martial arts. We try to give you experiences.

But sometimes, I just want a Saturday to sit and read, write, or be lazy. On those days, when I see you glued to your iPads, I’ll say, “Who wants to do a craft?” You both usually shout, “YAY! Let’s do a craft!” And then we make an absolute mess of the house for five minutes of painting before you’re over it and back to the iPads. That’s parenting too.

For Zoey’s fifth birthday, your mom and I got you a massive Barbie Dream house. It had over 80 pieces and took me an entire evening to assemble. The morning of your birthday, you ran downstairs and were ecstatic. For a while, it was everything. But like most toys, the excitement faded. That’s part of it too.

Lukas, sometimes I miss when you were into Pokémon. I understood it better than Minecraft, and it felt like we were bonding—organizing cards, watching the series, and even writing Pokémon books together. The same was true with Star Wars. We’d read books, put up posters, and have our little rituals. But your interests change, and that’s okay. It’s part of growing up.

When I was a kid, technology was there, but not like now. We had GameCube, Xbox, and the internet. Then I moved to the sticks, where there was no high-speed internet, and it felt like going back in time. I can’t say technology consumed my life, but if it had been more accessible, I’m sure it would have.

That’s why I struggle with parents who claim, “My kids were always outside!” Of course, they were—it wasn’t an option to be glued to a screen back then. And those same parents are now online, sharing their wisdom from behind their own screens. We’re in a strange world.

Here’s the truth: as adults, we don’t know as much as we pretend to. We hope to seem convincing, but your mom and I were just kids ourselves when we had you. Lukas, when I held you for the first time, it was only the second time I’d ever held a baby. I was so nervous my hands were shaking, but I was also in awe. You were everything.

By the time Zoey was born, I was more ready. I had a couple of years of parenting under my belt, and I even cut your umbilical cord, Zoey. But the dynamic had shifted. Two kids meant a whole new learning curve, and we made plenty of mistakes along the way.

I think of a quote I heard in the movie Only the Brave: “We don’t see the world as it is, but as we are.” That feels profoundly true. I don’t know what’s universally right or wrong; I only know what I believe to be right and wrong. I hope I can pass the good parts of me on to you and leave out the bad, though I’m sure some of both will come through.

Above all, know that your mom and I love you. There’s not a single day where we’d choose a different life. Even through the headaches, the screaming matches, and the moments when work and finances feel like quicksand, I know I was meant to be your father.

If you take one thing from this book, let it be this: I love you. Always. Come to me when you need something. Come to me when you’re in pain. Come to me when you’re excited or nervous. Come to me with recommendations for movies, music, or books. Come to me when you need to talk. Because sometimes, kids just need to talk to their dad.