Last year, we took our daughter to Hardly Strictly Bluegrass, a free concert in Golden Gate Park. We met a few other parents, who had toddlers of their own. Before the band started playing, one began throwing a tantrum. He wanted his iPod Touch, and so he got it. Then the Preservation Hall Jazz Band began to play, and all the children began to dance and laugh and play in the grass. Except for the one who sat on the blanket, staring at a screen, oblivious to all else.

The Terrible Truth About Toddlers and Touchscreens

The truth isn’t terrible. The truth is no one really knows and parents are scared of the unknown. I think there’s a happy medium. I’d like to think that when the time comes for Cassidy to interact with a screen, we will use it as a tool and not sit her down in front of it so we can get a few minutes to ourselves.

[W]hen faced with a set of seemingly insurmountable challenges, the first step towards making it easier is to break things down into as large a set of small individual tasks as possible.

How to do anything

This is the advice that I often find myself giving friends in stressful situations. One of the things we humans are good at is balling a bunch of problems into one big problem, especially when it comes to personal challenges. I don’t remember if it was advice that someone gave me or something I figured out on my own, but parsing things out into lists on a piece of paper is the best way to solve problems.

I think it’s one of the reasons I really enjoy operations at Topspin. Every single day there are problems to solve. It’s an adventure and a puzzle eve day at work. SMS are definitely more exciting to solve that others, but its work I enjoy.

Having been through one or two bubbles, I’ve learned that people can believe exactly what they want to believe. That’s one of the privileges of being a human with money to spend. When you compound utopian wishfulness with the anxiety of being left behind, you’ll have a bubble.