Last week, Elise asked me why the people inside my phone were talking to me. She meant a video call with my mom, but the question stopped me cold. How do you explain screens to a four-year-old when you’re still figuring out your own relationship with them?
Here’s the thing: we’re the first generation of parents raising kids who will never know a world without smartphones, social media, and AI assistants. Our own parents didn’t have a playbook for this.
They worried about too much TV and stranger danger at the park. We’re navigating screen time battles, digital footprints, and algorithms designed to hijack attention. The skills that made someone a “good parent” twenty years ago aren’t enough anymore.
We need new ones. Not instead of the timeless stuff like patience, presence, and unconditional love, but alongside it.
1) Learning to model healthy tech habits yourself
Kids don’t listen to what we say. They watch what we do. And what they’re watching is us scrolling through our phones at dinner, checking emails during playtime, and falling asleep with screens glowing on our nightstands.
I caught myself doing this thing where I’d tell Elise “just one more minute” while I finished something on my phone. One minute turned into five. Five turned into her wandering off to play alone. The message I was sending, without meaning to, was that whatever was on that screen mattered more than her.
So Camille and I made a rule: phones charge in the kitchen after 7 PM. It felt weird at first, almost like a phantom limb situation. But something shifted. Evenings got slower. Conversations got longer. Elise started bringing books to the couch instead of asking to watch something. Our habits became her habits.
As the American Academy of Pediatrics has noted, children learn media habits by observing their parents, which means the most powerful screen time intervention isn’t a rule. It’s your own behavior.
2) Understanding that digital literacy starts earlier than you think
We tend to think of digital literacy as something for teenagers. Teaching them about privacy settings, recognizing misinformation, understanding that influencers are selling something. But the foundation gets laid much earlier.
When Elise swipes on a tablet, she’s already learning how interfaces work. She’s absorbing the idea that tapping something makes it respond. That bright colors and sounds mean “pay attention here.” These aren’t neutral lessons. They’re shaping how she’ll interact with technology for the rest of her life.
Starting early means narrating what you’re doing. “Daddy’s checking the weather on his phone so we know what to wear.” It means explaining that ads want us to buy things. It means letting them see you close an app because you’ve had enough. Digital literacy isn’t a single conversation. It’s hundreds of small moments where you help them understand that technology is a tool, not a world to get lost in.
3) Creating tech-free zones and protecting them fiercely
Boundaries need physical space to survive. Abstract rules like “less screen time” don’t stick because they’re too vague. What works better is carving out specific places where screens simply don’t exist.
For us, it’s the dinner table and the kids’ bedrooms. No exceptions. No “just this once” for a restaurant meltdown or a sick day. The consistency is the point. When Elise knows that certain spaces are screen-free, she stops asking. The battle disappears because there’s nothing to negotiate.
This matters more than it might seem. Research from Common Sense Media shows that kids with screens in their bedrooms get less sleep and have more difficulty with emotional regulation. The bedroom thing especially hit home for me. Sleep is sacred in our house. Julien’s still figuring out how to do it consistently, and the last thing we need is screens making it harder for anyone.
4) Getting comfortable with saying “I don’t know, let’s find out together”
My parents’ generation could bluff their way through questions. If they didn’t know something, they’d make something up or redirect. We don’t have that luxury anymore. Our kids can fact-check us in real time.
But here’s the opportunity hidden in that challenge: we get to model curiosity instead of pretending to have all the answers. When Elise asks why the sky is blue or how airplanes stay up, I’ve started saying “I’m not sure. Want to look it up together?” Then we do. She sees that not knowing something isn’t embarrassing. It’s the starting point for learning.
This skill extends beyond factual questions. When she eventually asks about harder stuff, things I genuinely don’t have answers for, I want her to know that uncertainty is okay. That adults are still figuring things out too. That wisdom isn’t about having all the answers. It’s about knowing how to seek them.
5) Building emotional vocabulary in a world that moves too fast
The digital world is optimized for speed. Quick hits of dopamine. Instant reactions. Swipe, tap, scroll, repeat. Emotions don’t work that way. They need time to be felt, named, and processed.
One of the most important things we can do as modern parents is slow down enough to help our kids build emotional vocabulary. Not just “happy” or “sad” but frustrated, disappointed, overwhelmed, jealous, proud, nervous. The more words they have, the better they can understand themselves.
We do this thing at dinner where everyone shares a “high” and a “low” from their day. Elise has gotten surprisingly good at it. Last week her low was feeling “left out” when her friend played with someone else at preschool. A year ago, she would have just said she was sad.
Now she has language for the specific shape of that sadness. That precision matters. It helps her feel understood, and it helps us know how to support her.
6) Recognizing when connection needs to happen offline
Video calls with grandparents are wonderful. Educational apps can be genuinely helpful. But there’s something that happens in face-to-face interaction that screens can’t replicate. The subtle stuff. Reading micro-expressions. Feeling someone’s presence. The comfortable silence of just being together.
I notice it most on my work-from-home days. Even though I’m physically in the house, if I’m on calls all day, Elise acts like she hasn’t seen me. Because in the ways that matter to a four-year-old, she hasn’t. Presence isn’t just proximity. It’s attention.
So I’ve gotten intentional about offline connection. Walks around the neighborhood with Julien in the carrier. Sitting on the floor while Elise builds elaborate block towers. Sunday morning pancakes where my phone stays in the other room. These moments don’t need to be long. They just need to be real.
7) Teaching consent and boundaries in digital spaces
We talk a lot about consent with bodies. Good touch, bad touch, your body belongs to you. But consent extends into digital spaces too, and we need to start those conversations early.
It starts with asking before posting photos of them. Sounds small, but it matters. Elise is old enough now that I ask if it’s okay to share a picture with family. Sometimes she says no. And I respect that. She’s learning that she has a say in how her image gets used.
As noted by digital wellness researcher Dr. Yalda Uhls, children need to understand that what goes online often stays online, and building that awareness starts with respecting their digital boundaries from the beginning. It also means teaching them that they can say no to things that make them uncomfortable online.
That they should tell us if something feels weird. That privacy is a right, not a privilege.
8) Staying curious about the platforms your kids will use
By the time Elise is a teenager, the social media landscape will look completely different than it does today. Platforms I’ve never heard of will be central to her social life. If I want to stay connected, I need to stay curious.
This doesn’t mean becoming an expert on every app. It means maintaining an open, non-judgmental stance. Asking questions instead of lecturing. Being someone she wants to talk to about this stuff rather than someone she hides it from.
I think about my own teenage years and how much I kept from my parents. Not because they were bad parents, but because they didn’t understand my world and didn’t seem interested in trying. I want to be different. I want Elise and Julien to know that I’m genuinely curious about their lives, even the parts that happen on screens. That curiosity is a bridge. Judgment is a wall.
9) Embracing imperfection and giving yourself grace
Here’s the truth: we’re going to mess this up. We’ll let screen time slide when we’re exhausted. We’ll check our phones when we shouldn’t. We’ll make rules and then break them. We’ll overcorrect and then swing back the other way.
That’s okay. Parenting has always been an imperfect practice, and adding technology to the mix just gives us new ways to fall short of our own ideals. What matters isn’t perfection. It’s intention. It’s trying. It’s being willing to adjust when something isn’t working.
I’ve had to let go of the fantasy that I’ll figure this out and then be done. There’s no “done.” The technology keeps evolving. The kids keep growing. The challenges keep shifting. All I can do is stay engaged, keep learning, and trust that showing up imperfectly is still showing up.
Closing thoughts
Parenting in the digital age isn’t about having all the answers. It’s about being willing to sit in the questions with our kids. To learn alongside them. To admit when we’re struggling and model what it looks like to keep trying anyway.
The nine skills I’ve outlined here aren’t a checklist to complete. They’re more like muscles to develop over time. Some days you’ll flex them well. Other days you’ll forget they exist. That’s the rhythm of this whole parenting thing.
What gives me hope is that we’re not doing this alone. We’re a whole generation of parents figuring it out together, sharing what works, admitting what doesn’t, and raising kids who will probably handle technology better than we ever did. Because they’ll have something we didn’t: parents who took this seriously enough to try.
