“Mum, You’re Not Even Watching Me!”

On background noise, front-row seats, and the performance of parenting.

A child, dressed as a king with a paper crown and cape, embraces imaginative play in a cozy living room while an adult nearby is focused on a phone and a curious puppy sits on the floor.

It started with a paper crown, a blanket cape, and a wooden spoon. A whole performance was brewing in the lounge room and I was missing it. I was half-scrolling, half-stirring dinner, nodding in that vaguely encouraging way that parents do when our bodies are present but our brains are four tabs deep in to-do lists.

And then he said it.

“Mum, you’re not even watching me!”

I looked up, and he was right.

I wasn’t.

I’d caught bits of it: the entrance, the spoon tap, the dramatic monologue that may or may not have been borrowed from Bluey. But I wasn’t really there. And the truth is, I didn’t need a front-row seat for every single wooden-spoon sword fight… but in that moment, he did.

He was trying to be seen. Not just looked at, seen.

It hit me later after dinner, after teeth, after stories; how much of parenting now feels like trying to divide yourself into too many windows. There’s the one where you’re replying to that work email. The one where you’re checking the recipe. The one where you’re making sure nobody’s drawn on the walls with a whiteboard marker again. And somewhere behind them all is the blurry, blinking tab of “Be present.”

I don’t think guilt helps here. But I do think attention matters.

Because kids don’t always need us to watch the whole show. But they need to believe we’d show up for the big scenes. That we’re available for the standing ovation. That our eyes light up when they say, “Look at me!”

And sometimes… they just need us to put the phone down and watch the spoon fight.

TRY THIS

Here are a few things I’ve started doing that help me stay present without needing to be on 24/7:

• Pick your “front row” moments. Choose a few times each day where your focus is full, even just for five minutes. Let your child know it’s their time.

• Narrate your pauses. I now say things like, “I’m just finishing this text, then I’ll watch.” It builds trust and sets realistic expectations.

• Create shared rituals. In our house, we call it Monty Time. No screens, no background noise, just five minutes of whatever performance, puppet show, or musical chaos he dreams up that day. It’s his moment, and we all know it.

Not every moment can be magic. But the magic ones can’t happen if we’re never really there. This is your gentle reminder that sometimes, the most meaningful connections come from simply being present.