Tomorrow we start sheltering in place. I don’t really know what that means—I think it’s the next step in the progression from free range to factory farm: social distance, shelter in place, martial law. Honestly, I am not sure if there is much difference between the first two other than social distance is voluntary and shelter in place is voluntold for those who are too stupid or stubborn to volunteer.

It all makes me want to go to Target though. Not for necessities, but for entertainment. I have many fears for this period of pandemic and isolation, but the fear that is most justified is the fear of boredom. And by boredom I don’t really mean boredom, I mean brain damage, dain bramage. I am afraid we will do nothing but sit on screens for the next 30 days until (possibly) school is back in session.

Today is my daughter’s 13th birthday so I let her have unlimited phone time. So she sat in the dark in her room on her phone all day. My 11-year-old son is already a junkie for the Xbox. It is his first thought in the morning and his last request at night. My phone has died mid-afternoon almost every day—I am constantly texting, checking the news, shopping Amazon. Any conversation with my husband starts by asking him to put the phone down (or take out his earbuds).

My challenge this week or month will not be securing toilet paper or attempting to go through the world without touching anything, it will be getting my family to put down the phones and the controllers and play a game. Perhaps an epic game of Risk or an afternoon of Monopoly. We have unopened games from last Christmas and opened, but unplayed, games from the Christmas before.

The binky fairy (the fairy who comes to take your kids’ pacifiers when it’s time and leaves a toy) and the Elf on the Shelf (Orwellian behavior monitor) came into being to serve a need for positive change or creepy control. I need The WiFi Fairy or The Great UnGoogler, Charlie Brown or the Internet-erator to change our WiFi password in the night and leave a game. After my family plays the game, he returns and changes our password back. Help us, Ether Bunny—you’re our only hope.