Dispute that does not compute

Her declaration followed an early morning exchange where I told her we were going to watch a play that evening.

What followed was a diatribe of lame excuses for why she could not possibly come.

These included doing her art project, which would have been viable if said project had not been gathering dust on the piano for the last week, visiting friends, despite having spent every day and virtually every evening with them this week followed by “feeling a bit peaky”.

The real reason, I was sure, was that she wanted to stay inside like a hermit, lured by a new computer game, which freaks me out.

And no. My addiction to Candy Crush (Level 161, yay) does not make me a hypocrite.

“You will waste your life sitting up here stunting your brain playing that game. It isn’t real life you know,” I said.

“Oh for goodness sakes Mum, everyone plays computer games, apart from one per cent of the teenage population who live in Amish villages or communes. You are just, so, well, old.”

I took the dog for a walk to reflect.

My fear is that my beautiful daughter will become a lonely singleton, with crippling social skills whose only other contact with human beings will be either a visit the GP to attend to her sweaty RSI fingers.

She will appear on a television documentary, which will be aired as a warning to all – The Girl who Never Went Out.

However, there is nothing like a brisk walk with my naughty dog to snap the brain out of negative thinking.

Teenagers play video games. She goes to school, has good friends, spends every Sunday at the stables and swims. Hardly a hermit.

When I return she declares the Hunger Strike.

“That’s ridiculous,” I retort, stupidly getting hooked into the drama.

“If you don’t want to come then you must do some work. I don’t want you sitting in your room for two hours playing that game.”

“OK. I will do some work too,” she sighed grudgingly.

The Hunger Strike was forgotten five minutes later as she tucked into her breakfast.

When I came home later that evening the Teen appeared in the kitchen - looking pale and drawn.

The grey pallor and glazed expression was due to spending three hours playing that blasted video game.

Her art book was untouched on the piano.

Teenagers. Video games.

Bah.

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