I'm 72 years old. I have six grandchildren. And at last year's Christmas dinner, not a single one of them looked me in the eye for more than ten seconds.
I'm not angry. I'm heartbroken.
I grew up in a house where Sunday dinner was sacred. No TV, no radio, just family. My mother would spend all morning cooking, and we'd spend two hours at the table talking, arguing, laughing. Those are the memories I hold closest now.
My granddaughter asked me to text her a photo from across the room. She was eight feet away from me.
My daughter-in-law showed me this app — Family First. She explained it gently, worried I'd think it was silly. But I understood immediately. It's not about the technology. It's about the intention.
For Easter this year, we asked everyone to use Family First's 'Family Time' mode during dinner. Two hours, no phones. My son groaned. My teenage grandson acted like we'd asked him to climb Everest.
But something magical happened. My grandson asked me about the war — something he'd never done before. My youngest granddaughter sat on my lap and asked me to teach her a card game. My son held my hand under the table.
I don't know how many more family dinners I have. Nobody does. But I know this: the ones worth remembering are the ones where we're actually there.
