Let Me Say It Again for the People in the Back

My child is not getting a cell phone before 8th grade.

Not a little one.
Not a “just for emergencies” one.
Not a “but everyone else has one” one.

None.

I know. I know. This apparently makes me the villain in several middle school group chats I’m not invited to. I’ll recover.

And before anyone says it:

“Yes, but their friends all have phones.”

Correct. I’ve noticed. It’s actually part of my reasoning.

I’ve watched what happens the minute those tiny glowing rectangles show up. Suddenly we’ve got 12-year-olds managing group chats that look like a low-budget reality show. Drama. Screenshots. Someone crying over a text that said “k.”

Hard pass.

Also, and this might be controversial, there is absolutely nothing happening at 11:47 PM that my kid needs to know about via text.

If it’s truly life altering?

Get a…house phone.

It rings.
You answer it.
You talk to someone.
You hang up.

It’s basically FaceTime but with imagination.

Listen, parenting is hard. I get why people cave. The whining, the begging, the dramatic speeches about social exile.

Oscar-worthy performances, honestly.

But here’s the deal: I’m not raising my kids based on what everyone else is doing. If that were the case, we’d also be eating Pop-Tarts for dinner and learning life lessons from TikTok.

I’m good.

So, for now, my kid gets something even better than a smartphone:

Childhood.

And if that means they think I’m the meanest parent alive?

Perfect.

I’m comfortable holding that title for a few more years. I mean let’s all be honest, I’ve been called much worse.