Pick up your #toys, @kids. ❤️ , Dad.

The age of technology.

At first, it was cute. My one-year-old daughter changed the language on my phone to Japanese as we chuckled at her little fingers manipulating the oversized piece of metal and glass. Her eyes would often trace our email checking, doom scrolling and Amazon purchasing. Naturally, she tried to do the same anytime a phone was left unattended. But despite best efforts, her immature fine motor skills could barely activate the screen, much less call an ex-girlfriend or answer a telemarketer.

But, now. Now, I’m worried.

My oldest daughter Saoirse will be blowing out six candles on her cake soon, but apparently she worked on the development team with Steve Jobs at Apple in a prior life. She struggles with basic addition, but can bypass my lock screen with ease and connect a bluetooth speaker to blare, “It’s Raining Tacos” (warning: click at your own risk). She’s called 9-1-1, butt-dialed my boss and purchased far too many apps featuring talking cats.

I’m confounded by so many recent stories about local police or the FBI subpoenaing Apple to unlock the phones of suspected lawbreakers. Seriously? Give my kid the phone, grab a coffee, and you’ll be sifting through texts, calls and camera rolls in no time. I would roll my eyes during yet another lecture on technology adoption by my parents as they struggled to burn a CD. Now I’m asking my daughter how to sell off crypto in my digital wallet.

When my wife and I were pregnant for the first time, we talked in elevated platitudes about the importance of limited screen time, the development of our child’s brain through tangible motor skills and the boundaries we would easily enforce through 18 bliss-induced years. Come the big day, I’m pretty sure my kid live streamed me cutting her cord in the delivery room. Of course, it’s easier said than done, but it’s also a gargantuan serving of hypocrisy as our offspring witness screens literally tethered to their parents every passing minute.

As with anything, though, maybe it’s more about moderation than complete abstinence. Is she really going to forego TikTok for Tolstoy? Even now, I’ll find her in the closet, lights off, secretly taking selfies. At some point, I guess we just give in, recommending limits and trying to convince her of real world joys. “Sunlight is good,” we’ll say. “You can have a #nofilter perspective any time you want!”

But for now, it’s dinner time. I need to tweet my daughter to set the table.

🍽️ 🖕🙄, she responds.

Lovely.