My wife and my initial attitude to technology was to keep technology out of our home as much as possible. We had a rarely-used television and did not even set up an internet connection for our family computer until sometime in the early 2000s. Our older children would occupy themselves, spending lots of time outside, doing such things as building forts and digging holes in the backyard. Many books were read. It was messy and at times chaotic but almost always joyful.

Angela and I are not Luddites. We were not against technology per se. We were just concerned with how screens could captivate a young person, often taking away their desire to act in a self-directed way. We did not want screens to interfere with our children engaging in healthy play, reading independently, and our much-looked-forward-to-out-loud family reading time in the evenings. Our attitude toward technology was similar to that expressed by the Oompa Loompas song sung after the demise of Mike Teavee in Roald Dahl’s Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

Over the years, technology gradually began to seep into our home. First, were books on tape or CDs. Our older children listened to works like J.R.R. Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings for hours on end. This seemed mostly okay to Angela and me. Hearing a story being read through a CD recording is not that different from listening to a parent read it. This resulted in younger children to listen to classic works of literature that otherwise would be difficult for them to read on their own. But we were concerned with the tendency of some of our children listening to recorded books for hours at a time, without any desire to stop. They would hide away in what was called “the alcove,” a small carpeted nook in our house with blankets and bookshelves. We found ourselves placing time limits on listening and discouraging the retreat to private places away from the life of the family.

When we connected our family computer to the internet, not much changed at first. Email was becoming more popular and Angela and I would periodically log on to communicate with others. The children would look over our shoulders, somewhat intrigued by what Mom and Dad were doing on the computer. As our family grew and the older children began to enter school, the use of the computer gradually expanded. Most times, it was educational. Video games were – and still are – strictly forbidden in the Moynihan household. The children would learn how to type from online tutorials and practice with speed typing games, which we reluctantly allowed. Educational videos were watched for school. And the computer became increasingly important for other school work, especially for the older children. As this happened, we realized that one computer was not enough and purchased our first laptop. Angela and I were concerned with the direction this was going. Should we allow the older children to take a laptop to their bedroom where they can view content in apparent anonymity? Even apart from potential problematic content, there was the question of the amount of time spent in front of a screen. It was becoming increasingly well-documented that too much screen time correlates to significant negative outcomes for children.

Then the era of cell phones erupted into our family life. Angela and I found ourselves using these powerful tools more and more. It was great to have so much information at one’s fingertips, and with our children involved in multiple sports teams and social gatherings, we soon wondered how it was possible to keep up even with the aid of these personal computing devices. We were concerned about how captivating these devices could be, and how they would take the place of healthy personal interactions, including in the family. They can be difficult to manage for a well-formed adult. There was no way we were going to turn over a cell phone with full functionality to our school-age children.

It became an ironclad Moynihan household policy that no child was to have their own phone until they were a senior in high school, and then only if we parents thought it was a good idea. This has been a challenging battle to fight, as children often feel left out from some communication among friends. We do have a Pinwheel family phone that is used as needed by those children who don’t have their own phones.

And so, our current state is one of striving for – and sometimes striking but perhaps just as often not – the right balance. Our younger children are somewhat disadvantaged because the screens are more a part of the ebb and flow of family life than they were for older siblings. They are at times drawn to the computer, requesting permission to watch a video, perhaps as a way to help occupy the youngest Moynihan, little Luke who is an adorable but at times rambunctious 7-year-old with Down Syndrome. They do not engage in creative play as much as their older siblings did. Our young teenage girls are drawn to the chat functions on the Gmail platform, which is the “only way” they can communicate with their friends since they do not have cell phones. Angela and I realize that computers are useful and even present the possibility of significant cultural riches. We have fond memories of being together as a family watching the BBC version of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice for several evenings. But, as with any powerful tool, computers can be dangerous and have downsides if not used well; it is difficult for a modern family to use them well.