Four Yellow Lights and the End of the World

It happened. The thing every parent, business owner, and modern human dreads.

The. Internet. Went. Down.

This terrifying moment, the END OF THE WORLD as we know it, was heralded by Nathaniel’s angelic voice drifting in from the lounge room.

“Mum… there’s no Wi-Fi.”

A pause. Then:

“Muuuuuuum the TV doesn’t work.”

“The computer doesn’t work.”

“My iPad doesn’t work.”

Oh god.

MY LIFE DOESN’T WORK.

Three devices.

Two small humans.

One rapidly collapsing household.

I glanced at my calendar. An early-morning career coaching session. The kind that pays for groceries, electricity and… internet.

I had to get it fixed.

Now.

Back in the lounge room, civilisation was collapsing.

Complaints escalated.

Voices rose.

The four yellow modem lights blinked at me like the Horsemen of the Apocalypse:

Conquest,

War,

Famine,

and Buffering.

I started pacing, muttering things that would absolutely not pass a ‘calm-parenting’ seminar.

Because I was already mid-December spiral.

Wrapping up client work (apparently everything is urgent before Christmas, why?!)

Trying to schedule work so January doesn’t arrive like a financial fall out zone.

Doing mental maths about presents.

Pre-ordering seafood.

Hanging decorations.

Washing matching Christmas shirts (why do we do this to ourselves).

Realising we don’t have enough wrapping paper.

Wondering if this present looks “big enough”.

Stepping on Christmas cookies, in places cookies should never be.

Jolting back to the present, I remembered that important meeting the next morning.

The one entirely dependant on the internet connection to hold.

So I did what any rational adult would do: I shut myself in the bedroom with the modem and my hostage, some poor Telstra tech on speaker.

The children were banished.

The door was closed.

Silence was paramount.

On the other end of the line, the Telstra tech began issuing instructions that sounded increasingly made up.

“Okay, now check the UNI-D port.”

I nodded, as if he could see me.

“Is the light flashing green, solid green, or… sort of green-orange?”

At this point I was fairly certain I was diffusing a bomb.

I remember thinking:

This is it. This is how our happiness, financial stability, and Christmas spirit ends.

Eventually, I emerged from the bedroom. moderately traumatised, and not particularly proud of the thoughts I’d had about Telstra and Australia’s NBN setup in general.

Time to check on the children.

I stomped out, and stopped dead in the hallway.

They had built an entire city.

Not one cubby house.

A full network.

Blankets stretched across chairs, couches, coffee tables. They’d even used the bench.

Tunnels. Passageways. Multiple entry points.

No screens.

No instructions.

No expensive toys.

Just a couple of Hot Wheels cars, a torch and a book.

While I’d been trying to hold the world together, they’d quietly built their own.

I spotted two pairs of feet sticking out from under a blanket near the couch wriggling calmly, happily. Seemed like the rest of them had been absorbed into whatever story was unfolding inside.

I wondered what they were dreaming up.

Secret headquarters.

Safe zones.

Worlds with rules that didn’t require passwords, phone calls, updates, or blinking lights.

Wouldn’t that be nice.

And that’s when it hit me:

This is what they actually want for Christmas.

Not more things.

Not bigger presents.

Not the perfect setup.

They want connection.

They want time.

They want a mum who isn’t vibrating with stress under a pile of expectations.

So after a moment, I did the only reasonable thing.

I crawled in.

I escaped the real world and joined the magical one hiding under the blankets.

Their world, full of imagination, laughter, just being together.

Real connection.

Time spent enjoying the good life in the lounge room under blankets and chairs, where no one was trying to prove anything at all.

And I think that might be the real network worth protecting.

Because maybe this is the reminder worth holding onto (and let’s not let Hallmark or the retail industry trick us into forgetting this):

Our kids don’t want more magic.

They’re already living in it.

The internet eventually came back.

Well. Kind of.

It still drops out every hour or so.

Bloody Telstra.