Cards I am choosing to play this summer

I was standing in the kitchen when my daughter asked me a question.

I heard her, but I was also finishing a quick message on my phone.

By the time I looked up, she was already turning away.

It was a tiny moment, but hit like a smack on the back of the head.

I’m really not someone who spends hours staring at my phone.

Most days I feel proud of how present I am.

I put it aside more often than I pick it up, and try to be intentional about the way I use it around her.

However, even with the best intention, I still have moments where my attention slips for a second, and as a result, I see the shift in her.

She reads my face before I have even processed what I am doing.

She sees that my focus has gone somewhere else.

I try to explain. I show her that I am checking the weather.

I tell her I am texting her friend’s mum to see if they can come to the park.

It is a genuine effort to help her understand, but I also know children do not measure these things the way adults do.

They don’t care whether the message is important or whether the task is quick.

They care that we looked away.

Research supports this more than we like to admit.

Studies show that even short phone interruptions can make children feel less emotionally safe.

They become more frustrated, more withdrawn or more unsettled, not because of the phone itself, but because of what the shift in attention represents.

On the other side, shared play and face-to-face interaction boost emotional regulation, communication skills and family bonding.

The science is clear.

Presence matters more than perfection.

So this summer, I am setting myself a goal.

I want afternoons filled with cards and simple board games, not just for the kids, but for the adults as well.

I want the kind of nights where the children fall asleep, and we all stay up with a card game and conversation.

The way it used to be when we went camping with our cousins as kids.

With younger children the choices are simple.

Snap. Uno. Matching games. Nothing dramatic.

But I have noticed they do not care what the game is.

They care that we are all sitting together.

They care that for this small slice of time, they are not competing with our phones for our attention.

And honestly, it is good for us too.

Games slow the room down.

They bring laughter back into the day.

They help create tiny rituals and inside jokes that live far longer than the summer itself.

They remind us that connection does not need to be spectacular.

It only needs to be chosen.

I am not expecting perfection from myself, or others.

There’ll be no throwing of phones into a drawer.

I am simply committing to presence as the highest priority.

I want this summer to be filled with shared, beautiful moments, and one that my daughter remembers us all being completely present.

That’s the ultimate game, right?

Where we all feel seen, heard and loved.

That is a game, where everyone wins.