The other day, I took Lucy out to lunch at Panera Bread. We ordered our food, found a table she picked out, and sat down to wait.

As I looked around the restaurant, my heart sank.

Every single table—literally every single table—was filled with people staring at their phones.

Parents sitting with their children. Friends sharing a meal. Families gathered around tables. And nearly everywhere I looked, people were bent over screens instead of looking at one another.

It was sobering. Shocking. Honestly, it felt like a slap in the face.

I know this is the world we live in. I know phones are useful. I know there are moments when screens are necessary. But what I saw that day was a powerful reminder of just how easily we can miss the people right in front of us.

And the people right in front of us matter deeply.

Your child’s childhood is not something you get back.

Your friendships need real attention.

Your family deserves your eyes, your presence, your delight.

These moments may seem ordinary, but they are not small. They are sacred. They are the kind of moments that quietly shape a life, a relationship, a memory. The people sitting across from us are not distractions from real life—they are real life.

That day at Panera made me want to gently but boldly say: look up!

Look into your child’s eyes.

Listen to the story your friend is telling.

Notice the expression on your husband’s face.

Laugh together.

Be all there.

Because while screens may offer entertainment, information, or distraction, they can never replace real connection.

Maybe part of the problem is that we’ve forgotten how simple connection can be. Maybe the silence feels awkward. Maybe we’ve gotten so used to filling every pause with a screen that we don’t know what to do without one.

That’s okay. It’s never too late to relearn.

One easy thing I recommend is keeping a couple of tiny games in your purse or pocket for when you go out to eat. We love Pass the Panda and Pass the Pigs. They’re simple, fun, easy to bring along, and great for all ages once your little one is past the stage of putting everything in their mouth. A tiny game can turn waiting for food into laughter, connection, and a memory.

And if you forget to bring anything at all, don’t underestimate the power of old-fashioned fun. Thumb wars. Rock-paper-scissors. Little guessing games. Silly challenges. Children do not need nearly as much as we think they do to feel connected. They just need us.

That’s really the heart of it.

Our kids do not need a distracted version of us.

They need our attention.

Our warmth.

Our playfulness.

Our presence.

I don’t say this to shame anyone. I say it because what I saw that day felt like a wake-up call, and I think some of us need one. Not a cruel one. A loving one.

A reminder to cherish what is right in front of us before it becomes something we would give anything to relive.

So here is my encouragement, both to myself and to anyone else who needs it:

Put the phone down.

Look at your people.

Play the silly game.

Start the conversation.

Notice the moment.

Be present enough to remember it.

Because the small moments are not actually small.

They are the ones that become the story of a childhood.

The story of a family.

The story of a life.

Let’s not miss them.