In the spirit of the new year, we decided to try something different when our oldest has friends over. This gaggle of almost-13-year-olds was asked to keep their technology—phones, tablets, whatever—on the kitchen table. The general rule? They could use them whenever they wanted, but only upstairs. Here’s how our first attempt played out.
But first, a little backstory.
At the tail end of 2024, I read The Anxious Generation by Jonathan Haidt. The book takes a strong stance on the impact of early exposure to the online world, and honestly, it challenged me. Some parts made me question parenting choices we’ve made, while others reassured me that we’re on the right track. Yes, our son calls us too strict, and yes, our middle one sometimes throws a full-blown tantrum over our rules. We can take it.
My biggest takeaway? Early exposure to technology rewires developing brains. A like on Instagram triggers a quick hit of dopamine. A Snapchat story fuels FOMO, making kids wonder why they weren’t invited. They scroll through endless videos of people being funny, beautiful, strong, and effortlessly happy, all while trying to figure out where they fit. The adolescent brain isn’t fully developed until around 25 to 27 years old. That means they can’t always see the bigger picture—that an Instagram like is nowhere near as valuable as a real conversation, that they already have what it takes to create meaningful experiences, and that social media is often a highlight reel, not reality. The book lays out research showing a drastic rise in anxiety and depression since 2010, coinciding with the introduction of smartphones and constant internet access.
We’ve seen it firsthand. Even at 12 or 13, a group of friends can sit in the same room, glued to their devices, barely engaging with each other. As much as I want to change the world, I know real change starts at home.
So, the boys walked in, we shared our plan, and… they didn’t even blink. All three phones landed on the kitchen table, and within minutes, a roaring game of mini sticks took over the basement. Then came the mismatched hockey gear, an intense Nerf war, and total, glorious chaos. Not going to lie—it was loud. At one point, Gene even joked that we should give them their phones back.
Throughout the night, they came upstairs a handful of times—usually between activities—quickly checked their phones, and went right back to playing.
I was surprised by how effortlessly they adapted, especially since they’d been here before with full access to their devices. It reinforced what I already knew: kids are wired for connection. They don’t need screens to have fun; they just need the space to unplug.
Our goal isn’t to ban technology altogether. We recognize that kids might need to check in with home, and we want to create a space where that’s always an option. At the same time, we want our home to be a place where real connection thrives, where the risks kids take involve a game of hide-and-seek in the dark, dirt biking, or an epic snowball fight—not an algorithm designed to keep them scrolling.
Does the therapist in me want to pick each of their brains about this experience? Absolutely. Will I let them be? You bet.
