“When do people get phones? And who teaches them how to use them?”
My six-year-old son asked today.
Implicit in the questions was an assumption. That getting a phone is a natural stage of the human life cycle. Like puberty or growing up. It struck me that it pretty much is now a stage of life.
One reaches an age when a phone becomes increasingly necessary. To keep a person locked out of the convenience of having a phone until they are legally an adult seems extreme. But what age is ok – 8, 9 or 10? Is it possible to keep them phone free till teenage years? At this point I suspect not. Phones are practical. A necessary evil perhaps. They also mark an irreversible point in childhood.
Firsts and lasts
Everyone talks about the firsts in raising children. The first Christmas. The first baby steps. First words. First playdates. First unassisted bike ride. First day of school. So many milestones. But no-one talks about the lasts. There was a last time he fell asleep on my chest. There was a last time I comfortably gave him a shoulder ride. There’ll be a last time I walk him to school holding his hand. A last time I read him a bedtime story.
There are probably so many last times that go unnoticed. The only time I can remember people savouring the lasts is in stories of separation, loss and grief. This is when the lasts become more poignant. We celebrate firsts while lasts disappear into the ether. Without fanfare. Without recognition.
The moments of the last time you did something routine with your child slip casually into oblivion. Out of memory. Only to be brought back through necessity if something unthinkable happens. It’s not possible or even practical to recall the last time every trivial event occurs. But there will be a last time your children ask you something before turning to the technology.
Replacing milestones
I guess that the getting of a phone isn’t simply a milestone, it replaces milestones. Before phones, children’s curiosity went to parents, books, or simply their own imaginations. Now, the answer is instantly at their fingertips. A few taps, swipes and views away. We live in the information. Pessimistically, the bedtime story fades, replaced by independent reading on a tablet.
I’m guilty of letting the technology in myself. My son has previously encountered AI. This evening he used my phone to ask ChatGPT how to summon mythical creatures. It makes sense I suppose. Technology can conjure so much. But when the chatbot told him there was no way to bring fictional beings into reality, he asked for something else. He asked for a stick that turns drawings real. And he wondered if Santa could bring it.
The contrast is striking. His belief in magic remains intact, even as he begins to rely on technology for answers. I see this as mirroring a moment in the parenting journey. Watching them drift between wonder and logic. Childhood and independence. Magic and technology.
What to do
You can’t predict the last time you will be a more important source of information than a device. You can however make sure you are never replaced as a source of support. This all serves as a reminder. A reminder to savour the mundane. To appreciate family time together.
If you’re a parent to young children make sure you pause, even for a moment, to take it all in. The bedtime stories, the school runs, the endless questions. The routines, the mealtimes, the scribbles. Because one day, without realizing it, they will happen for the last time.
Very astute.