The decision — Look up

Here's the rule, in one sentence. When someone is talking to me, the phone is out of my hands and out of my sight, and if I genuinely need it, I say so before I look.

The rule has three parts and each does a job. The first part, out of my hands, ends the half-listen, because chapter 3 argued that the phone in the hand is the thing that takes the attention. The second, out of my sight, ends the tug with a screen attached, because chapters 16 and 17 argued that face down on the table isn't away. The third, say so before I look, keeps the genuine exception alive and keeps it genuine, because chapter 18 argued that a look you have to announce is one you'll only take when it's worth announcing.

Three plans for the moments the rule is most likely to break, in the form of when-then, which is the form there's some evidence that plans work in.

When we sit down to eat, then my phone goes in the bag or the hall before the food's on the table. Meals have a start, so this is the easiest fixed point, and it's the one children see most.

When I'm on my phone and someone starts talking to me, then it goes down and my eyes come up before I've decided whether to. Not after this message. Now. The deciding is where the glance lives.

When the tug comes mid-story, then I notice it, name it, and let it pass, and if it's the phone lighting, I let it light. It'll still be lit in ten minutes.

What to expect. The tug will be louder for a fortnight, then quieter, though I have no study of this habit's timeline and I'm going on habits in general. Meals will get longer within a week and you may not notice why. A child who'd been escalating will escalate less, and a child who'd gone quiet may take longer to start again, because trust comes back slower than it goes. A partner will notice inside a month or won't say, and either is fine. And there'll be an evening when you look up from a story you've heard all of and realise the phone has been in the hall for two hours and you never thought about it. That's the habit gone, and it's quieter than you'd think.