"But here's the other truth: I'm exhausted from being his social consigliere, the constant go-between who manages every sport-related text, every plan, every "can I call so-and-so?" By the time I was my son's age, I was not only using our family phone independently, but my parents had ingrained an entire script in my mind so as to answer appropriately: "Labberton's residence, this is Kinsey speaking.""
"The problem was, dumb phones don't come with speed dial - or saved numbers, for that matter. So we went analog with the whole experience: pen, paper, and a handwritten roster of approved contacts (yes, I literally curated his social circle). Then I plugged the numbers into the Tin Can's companion app, which lets me control who he can and can't call."
"Then I plugged the numbers into the Tin Can's companion app, which lets me control who he can and can't call. No mystery-number prank calls happening on my watch. Next came the bigger hurdle: what on earth to say once someone actually answered. Turns out, unlike me, my son had zero script. So there I was, suddenly channeling my own parents: Say, "Hello, this is Wells. May I please speak to Charlie?" I coached, sounding every bit like the ghost of my parents' past."
A 10-year-old boy receives his first phone: a wall-mounted, button-style landline with a curly cord that barely reaches the hallway. The device is analog and deliberately antithetical to modern convenience, yet the boy embraces it because it grants real autonomy to make his own plans. Parents are exhausted from mediating every sport-related text and coordination, so they curated a handwritten roster of approved contacts and entered those numbers into a companion app that restricts outgoing calls and blocks unknown prank numbers. The parent also taught a polite telephone script so the child can handle conversations independently. The low-tech setup cultivates thoughtful independence while preserving parental safety controls.
Read at Business Insider
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