Parenting in the age of Minecraft means it was only a matter of time before the request to play came knocking. And here we are—the thud-thud-thud of footsteps, the doorbell, and the inevitable, “When will you know?” ringing in my ears.
While Dave and I played a board game with friends, Evelyn played Minecraft with her friend Robert, a seasoned pro. When she announced that she’d shot a bad guy with a bow and arrow—and that it was her favorite part—I felt a flicker of concern. Was there blood? If so, how much? And how did she feel about inflicting bodily harm?
I might—most likely am—overthinking this. But that’s my job. The parenting reviews paint Minecraft as a creative, blocky world for adventuring and building. I can see the appeal, especially if Dave or I played alongside her and set time limits. Plus, Dave suspects her cousins Annaleigh and Hudson have it next door. Maybe we could borrow it for a trial run.
It’s lovely out here on the back porch under the darkness and the dangling lights. Poor Archie. He can’t catch a break with the bunny. I scratch his belly to distract him while the bunny nuzzles up and props his tiny front paws on Archie’s fur. But when I stop, Archie gives a low growl, then a bark—his polite way of saying “back off.” If only Archie didn’t care so much, they might actually curl up together for a siesta.
I’m hoping for an owl hoot. Out here, it’s quiet—if you can call the insect orchestra “quiet.” No sign of the chaos from last fall’s coyotes. I wonder where they go this time of year. I should probably Google that.
Even though Dave isn’t thrilled about taking the front yard trees down, he’s equally into about what we plant next. A birch? A smaller oak? Maybe a mimosa? A modest tree would be best—something ornamental since the huge trees at the edge of the yard already give us plenty of shade. I’m drawn to the birch, its bark peeling away like thick pieces of construction paper. Or the mimosa, with its fragrant flowers.
My latest TikTok is getting some traction—176 views, 8 likes, 2 favorites, and a cluster of comments. One felt adversarial, and my nervous system reacted like there was gunfire in the room next to me. But I calmed down, responded thoughtfully, and acknowledged their point—likely born from a rough experience. They replied, “Thank you, your response was kind.” That meant a lot.
I haven’t read for pleasure in far too long. This month’s book club pick is Weyward, a historical fiction following three women from the same family across centuries—each wrestling with societal expectations and their connection to nature. I better get to it.
I hope your night is lovely. Take care.
Love, Jaclynn
PS Today’s photo is of our friend’s new RC motorcycle. It has a gyroscope for balance and hopefully someday I can drive it.
Going On 40 