Why I Allow My Teens Phone Freedom

Photo by Brett Sayles from Pexels

At the time of this writing, my kids are 13, 17, 21 and 24.

(Give me a minute while I stop and digest that. Whew. Okay.)

The 21 and 24 year olds are adults – and one of them is married – so while I would absolutely have a conversation if a situation arose, or if they asked for help in some way, my involvement is different from that of their siblings. And as adults, their decisions are their own.

As for the teens, the general narrative that I’m hearing lately tells me that I should be limiting their access, disallowing things like TikTok, checking their messages, and essentially living in fear that the big, bad, boogeyman of the internet at large is going to swoop them up, right under my nose.

But I’m not afraid.

And don’t get me wrong. I have a healthy amount of respect and caution for all things internet and social media related. Yes, they can be misused. Yes, they can hold dangers. Yes, they can be harmful.

Here’s the thing though. I have much more confidence in keeping my kids safe if I’m helping them navigate these things, rather than forbidding and/or controlling them. Why? Because forbidding them is going to ensure that they won’t talk to me about it in the future. It makes it more likely for them to feel like they need to hide things from me. It makes it more likely for them to seek out those activities in private (at school, at friends’ houses, on a secret phone…) without any guidance or input at all. Instead of encouraging conversation, it halts it. If I give them a blanket statement about it being “unsafe”, it will inevitably lead to distrust when they eventually learn that the internet and social media can be wonderful tools that help keep us engaged, informed, entertained, and connected.

I don’t remember how old any of my kids were when they got their own phones, as we didn’t wait for any specific age. Rather we waited for them to express an interest, to show that they were ready, and to demonstrate that they had the maturity and skill set to use it safely.

That does NOT mean – and I feel it’s super important that I say this expressly and clearly – that they were handed phones, told “have fun”, and then left alone. On the contrary, we were extremely involved, right from the start. We became their friends on Facebook, we followed them on Instagram. We talked. And we talked, and we talked, and we talked some more. We kept an open line of communication, so that when bobbles happened (and there have been a couple) they’d know that they could come to us, and we could help them work through them safely and effectively. They know they can come to us about anything, and that we will listen to them, without judgment, and without condemnation.

The best part? The transparency means I get to be invited into their world. I get to hear about the friends they’re talking to, the things they’re watching on YouTube, their favorite TikTokers, the games they’re playing. I get to be there. As I write, my 13 year old sits beside me, scrolling through TikTok and occasionally pausing one to share it with me. She always shares the things she posts too (and she is hysterical), and I pride myself on being the first one to like them. At 17, her brother isn’t quite as forthcoming as she is, but I still don’t worry. The conversations are still open and honest, and sharing comes easily. Just this morning he shared something personal that he absolutely didn’t have to share, and I knew – and deeply appreciated – that he still considered me a safe person.

You can’t keep your kids in bubble wrap. You can’t keep them from all potential harm. What you can do is walk through life beside them, with trust, respect, and communication, with the hope and the confidence that when it’s time for them to fly alone, you’ll both be ready.

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The Joy (And Art) Of Not Caring

I had an epiphany this past year. I don’t know if it was just matter of age and maturity, or if it was a product of good old fashioned self-reflective work (I listened to mental health podcasts like it was my job during quarantine). Regardless of the impetus, I was finally able to do something that had alluded me for 47 years.

I stopped caring what other people think.

And sure, I’d reached that point in certain areas of my life a long time ago. It’s been at least a decade since I’ve been bothered by anyone’s negative opinions about how I parent, or my decision to homeschool. I’m confident in those decisions, and other people’s thoughts on the matter are not even a blip on the radar.

But.

That confidence sadly didn’t carry over to the rest of my life. Oh I could say I didn’t care with the best of them. But I cared. I cared a lot. I even see it in black and white in my past blog posts. People would say things and it would upset me to the point of triggering depression. Or anxiety. Or rage (which was always sent inward instead of outward because that’s the way I’m wired.) With all of my being, I cared. I cared when people disagreed, I cared when people made ignorant comments, I cared when people were snotty.

And now I just… don’t. I really and truly don’t. And I honestly don’t think anything has made me feel so free.

Want to judge me for taking psychotropic drugs? Don’t care.

Want to judge me for eating a PopTart on occasion? Don’t care.

Want to judge me for my political views, or how I feel about religion, or the things I share on Facebook? Don’t care.

And the great irony is that it always seemed So. Hard. Someone’s being mean; how could I possibly not care?! But once I got it, once it really clicked, it became the easiest thing I’d ever done. People are the weather. I can’t control them. They’re free to think, say, and do as they’d like. They’re in charge of their own little bubble and I’m in charge of mine. They can’t affect me, can’t even touch me, unless I let them.

Their journey is not my journey.

TWO BIG CAVEATS:

First, not all things are equal. We should care about words and behaviors that are racist, sexist, homophobic, or otherwise discriminatory. This sort of thing should be called out and acitively worked against, not swept under a rug of, “I don’t care.”

Second, I’m still human. I can’t rightfully sit here and say, “Nothing can ever hurt my feelings again! I’m immune!” People are gloriously flawed, and I am sensitive. Someone will eventually – deliberately or inadvertently – say something that hits. The difference between now and two years ago is that I realize I’m not powerless to what that hurt does after it lands. I can take it in and snuggle up with it and make it my friend, letting it derail me for days or weeks or months; or I can address it, whether that means a reconciliatory conversation, or simply accepting it so I can then let it go.

Getting older is a mixed bag. My body hurts more than it used to, sleep is but a vague memory, and everything that’s supposed to be up is down. I’ll be 50 in two and a half years, and I’m still digesting the phrase, “middle aged.” But. Getting to a place where I can honestly say I no longer care what other people think, a place where I no longer live for anyone’s expectations but my own, a place where the only person who holds the remote for how I feel about myself is me?

Priceless.

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Your Kids Don’t Owe You Anything

Photo by Zen Chung from Pexels

“As long as you’re living under my roof, you’ll live by my rules.”

This sort of admonition, and others like it, operate on the same basic – and faulty – principle. Our kids live in our house. They follow our rules. They exist to be at our beck and call. They have to show us, indeed they owe us, obedience. Gratitude. Respect. They owe us for all the years we put into raising them. They owe us for giving them a warm place to sleep. They owe us for feeding them, for bathing them, for doing their laundry, for buying their clothes and their toys and their electronics.

If that’s something that resonates with you, you’re not alone. Society in general tends to favor this sort of top-down parenting approach: 1) Parents do the work and make the rules. 2) Kids owe it to their parents be quiet and compliant. They should be GRATEFUL.

But you’re wrong.

Our kids did not ask to be here. Let’s just start there. Kids are here because we decided to bring them into our world. In a very real sense, they are our invited guests. Do our guests owe us anything? I’ll get back to that.

Our literal job as parents is to take care of our kids. It’s our job to meet their needs, no matter what they may be. We see to it that their physical, mental, and emotional requirements are all attended to. We do our best to make sure that they have a safe place to sleep, good food to eat, and clothes to wear on their backs. We drive them where they need to be, we help them with their homework, we cheer for them at their soccer games. We celebrate them on their birthdays. We comfort them when they’re sick, we soothe them when they’re heartbroken, we listen when they need an ear. We play with them, we make memories with them. We try to give them happy experiences, whether it’s through family camping weekends, trips to the beach, or game night around the dinner table. We try to make their lives easier, and happier, and more comfortable.

And we do it all because we’re parents. Because that’s the job. Because we decided to have children. Because we invited these people into our lives.

When we invite people into our homes, do we expect them to owe us anything? Of course not. We try to make their stay as nice as possible. We are hospitable. We are kind. We are patient.

You may argue that it’s not the same. That our kids aren’t really visitors. That they are our children, little people that we are trying to prepare for the world. Fair enough. But wouldn’t that be MORE reason to treat them with unconditional kindness, not less? We are trying to show our children how to treat people, how to interact with the world, and how to respect themselves and others. Is approaching parenting with a sense of entitlement really the best way to accomplish that?

Want your kids to respect you? Start by respecting them first. Want your kids to have a grateful heart? Start by showing them what that looks like. Want your kids to listen to you? Start by listening to them. Start by treating them like people. Start by focusing on the relationship, not the rules.

Most of all, stop putting the onus on your kids to pay you back in some way for the privilege of being parented.

Your kids owe you nothing.

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Just So We’re Clear…

The meme that follows was posted by someone I used to go to church with. (If you want to read about my history with church, and how I ended up where I am today, start here.) I found it pretty intolerant, unloving, and overall abhorrent … so I fixed it.

I will always care if you’re gay or transgender, because being true to who you are is important. I hope that you will continue share your life with me, and continue to live out loud. I will love you for exactly who you are, and I will thank you for letting me see your authentic self.

I will always care what color you are, because truly seeing you means seeing ALL of you, including your color. I hope that you will continue to show me how I can better understand my privilege, and how I can be a better ally.

I will always care about your political affiliation, because in order to learn from one another, we need to be open and honest. I hope that you will continue to hold up a mirror to my own affiliations, so that I can truly examine where I am coming from, and why I feel the way I do.

I will always care where you were born, because your history is an important part of who you are. I hope that you will continue to teach me how my history intersects with your own, and how my ancestors altered the course of your life.

I will always care about your beliefs, because many different beliefs are valid, and beautiful, and something that can help me grow. I hope that you will continue to tell me if my beliefs are showing themselves as loving and inclusive, and when I have missed the mark.

I hope that I always find new ways to be more patient and tolerant,

and I hope you know that hundreds of millions of us feel the same way.

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The Problem with Medical Shaming

This picture just came through my Facebook newsfeed. I’ve seen it before, but this time it hit different. It might just have something to do with the fact that the person who shared it had also recently tried to shame me for getting the COVID vaccine. Regardless, it prickled.

Memes, or shirts, as the case may be, that try to influence others by shaming them never do anything more than steep in their own celebratory self congratulation. The wearer gets to feel superior in their “healthy diet and exercise with regular chiropractic care and superior nutritional supplements” while looking down on, and making assumptions about, those who take medications.

Medications, by the way, are taken by all kinds of people, for all kinds of reasons, even among those who eat that elusive “healthy” diet. It is unfair and ableist to assume that if someone needs a medication they must be doing something wrong. Medications exist to help people. Medications save lives.

Are they overprescribed? Sure. Are they sometimes unnecessary? Of course. Can they occasionally be discontinued if lifestyle changes are made? Yes. But none of that changes the fact that 1) They are sometimes crucial to a person’s health and well-being, and 2) We have NO IDEA why someone takes a medication or what their personal health records look like. None. That is between them and their doctor, and it is both ignorant and arrogant to think otherwise.

I have never made any secret of the fact that I take mental health medications. At the time of this writing I take two regulaly, and one as a PRN. I need them. And I say that with no shame and no disclaimers. It’s not an exaggeration to say that I would not be alive without them. If someone wants to shame me for that, that’s their prerogative, and it’s on them, not me.

The problem with photos like this one is that they’re trying to take down an entire collective of people, people that we know nothing about. It’s unfair, and it’s unkind.

If you eat a healthy diet (and it stands to be said, the word “healthy” is one of the most subjective words on the planet), and exercise, and see a chiropractor, and take superior supplements, great! Truly. Good for you. And if you don’t need any medications, even better. But looking down on those who live a different lifestyle isn’t going to do what you think it will. It won’t motivate, and it won’t inspire. Making assumptions never helped anyone, either.

People are fighting all kinds of battles we know nothing about. People are all on individual journeys. There are a million reasons why someone might be on a medication, and a million reasons why someone may or may not be eating or exercising or supplementing the way you deem “right.”

Life is hard. Go easy.

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Hold Them a Little Longer

2008

Last night, I had a dream.

I dreamt I had a three year old again. It wasn’t one of my real-life children, but an alternate-reality, Dream Child. I knew in the dream that he was three, and I was feeling sad because his 3T Spiderman pajamas were getting too small. We were getting ready for bed, and he was carrying a naked baby doll in one hand, and a truck in the other.

I woke up, and it took me a hot second to realize that I didn’t in fact have a three year old, but a 24 year old who is a bonafide grown-up, a 20 year old who recently became a husband, a 17 year old who’s on the cusp of adulthood, and the baby, a 13 year old who is more self-possessed than I was at 25.

And my heart ached.

It’s exhausting having littles. I remember the sleepless nights, the teething, the being used as a human pacifier, the diapers, the sippy cups, the big emotions, the hunt for the missing shoes, the taking 16 hours to get out the door. Some days felt like they would go on forever.

But all the cliches, about it going by in the blink of an eye? I’m here to tell you that they’re true. One day you’ll be knee deep in Dora and Disney, and the next you’ll wake up from a dream of a three year old, and be hit with a painful nostalgia so acute it will take your breath away.

I have no more young ones. My kids are nearly grown (and to be clear, I’m thoroughly enjoying this time with them!), and the baby and toddler years are firmly behind me. But if you’re reading this and your kids are still little, I beg of you:

Hold them a little longer.

Read them another book.

Let them stay 5 more minutes in the bath.

Say yes.

Don’t sweat the small stuff.

It goes by so fast. So fast. So fast. There are tiring and frustrating moments to be sure, but the good moments? The precious moments? The sticky fingers in your hand, the tiny voice, the nursery rhymes and the bedtime stories? Cherish them.

There will come a time… in five years, or ten, or twenty… that you’ll look back and desperately miss them.

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People Are The Weather

Three or four years ago, I had a falling out with a close friend. A discussion ultimately ended in her giving me an ultimatum, one that I didn’t acquiesce to. After some time had passed and I realized how much I missed her, I reached out… and was basically told to go f**k myself. We haven’t spoken since.

Two years ago, I was deeply – and inadvertently – hurt by another friend. Though conversations followed, I never received the apology I felt like I needed. Things have been different between us ever since.

Last year, one of Tegan’s (12 years old at the time) friends suddenly told her, “I hate you and never want to see you again.” When I tried to talk to his mother (someone who I also considered a friend) about it to see if I could learn what was going on, she responded by promptly blocking me. We haven’t talked since, and to this day neither Tegan nor I know what we did wrong.

Last week, some random person attacked me in one of my bipolar Facebook groups. She didn’t like what I had to say, and she reacted. She wasn’t kind, and she wasn’t gracious. She was condescending and arrogant, and her comments stung.

What do all these people have in common?

They’re the weather.

I can’t control the weather.

The weather does what it wants.

The weather makes its own decisions.

The weather is not about me.

Unless I’m putting myself in the eye of a hurricane, the weather doesn’t even affect me.

My whole life, I’ve cared too much what other people think and do. I get my feelings hurt easily, I’m quick to react, I’m sensitive to a fault. Many people have tried to talk to me about this – including my therapist of two years – but while I could understand intellectually, I didn’t know how to stop it. Nothing really made it click for me until recently when I heard the weather analogy. It was a literal lightbulb moment for me, and made me go, “Oh. OHHHH!!”

They’re the weather.

All of us as humans, as long as we’re living with appropriate boundaries, are walking around with an invisible circle around us. We have the right, the responsibility, and the authority to control everything inside our circles. Everything and everyone outside the circle? It’s the weather, and out of our control.

And it takes practice. When I got the comment on Facebook, a comment that would have ordinarily completely derailed me for a week, I had to remind myself: She’s the weather. I’m not in charge. She can say what she wants, do what she wants, act how she wants. It’s not about me. That’s HER choice. HER circle. HER responsibility. If she wants to be rude to strangers on the internet, she’s free to do that. My job? Simply to decide how I will or will not react. I get to decide if I’m going to let it send me spiraling, or if I’m going to let it go. Strangers on the internet? The answer is always to let it go.

Game changer.

As for friends, and other closer relationships? It’s more complicated, right? There are real feelings involved. There’s history. It’s personal. But the same principle applies. All I can control is me. That’s it. Was I true to myself? Was I honest? Was I kind? Was I fair? If the answer to any of the above is no, that’s on me to fix. But if the answer is yes, well then I did what I could.

The rest is weather. I can get an umbrella if I need it, but I don’t have to get wet.

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Pronouns, and Why They Matter

Last week, Demi Lovato posted a video on their Instagram, in which they came out as nonbinary, and stated that they would be using the pronouns they/them.

The internet definitely had opinions. This is mine.

First, I think it’s useful to talk about the word “nonbinary” and what it even means. This is my own clumsy definition, but please! feel free to correct me if I haven’t gotten it exactly right. To be nonbinary (when it comes to gender) is to feel that you don’t fit into the traditional boxes of “male” or “female”, but rather into something that is more fluid…. whether that means something in between, something entirely different, or something that vacillates between the two. I don’t know how it feels to be nonbinary, because I’ve never felt anything other than female. I’ve always been on the “tomboy” side of female, but a female nonetheless.

Here’s the thing though. I don’t have to understand in order to be respectful of someone else. It literally costs me nothing to give someone else the gift of being seen, of being heard, of being valued for who they are, and not unfairly and incorrectly being put into a box of my own choosing. Calling someone they/them? It’s a small ask with a huge impact.

A lot of people want to argue that they and them make no sense because they are plural*, and an individual person is singular. Full confession: I used to be one of them. I did my best to use it if it was requested, but the grammar snob in me bristled.

I got over it.

We use they/them pronouns in the singular all the time. (ie: “Someone left their cell phone on the table.”) Second, even if they usually are used plurally, so what? Language evolves, words evolve, LIFE evolves. I see people fretting about “what’s happening to the world today”, but this is not something new. Nonbinary people have always existed. It’s just that they’ve only recently been given a voice, and a way to express themselves to the world. And how can that be anything but a good thing?

We all want to be accepted for who we are. Using someone’s correct and preferred pronouns is a simple step to take to start making that happen.

But why should we change what we call Demi Lovato? They’re never going to hear us talking about them, so what does it matter? Yes, Demi Lovato is never going to hear me talking about them. Demi Lovato is not going to read this blog post and give me points for getting it right. But it matters. If for no other reason, because while it’s Demi Lovato today, it might very well be someone who can hear you next time. It might be your sibling, or your friend, or your neighbor, or your mail carrier. I found out just a few days ago that a good friend of mine accepted she/her, but that they preferred they/them. I’d had no idea. Now that I know, I can do better.

And it feels hard sometimes, right? As humans, we get used to things. We get set in our ways. Our verbiage becomes habitual. But it’s worth the effort. People are always worth the effort. Although it might take some getting used to (and some getting it wrong and having to correct yourself), at the end of the day it is a simple thing to do to make someone feel more visible, and more respected.

I don’t know why people are upset about Demi Lovato, I really don’t. Demi Lovato and Sam Smith and other nonbinary and/or gender fluid celebrities just want what the rest of us want:

To be seen.

To be heard.

To be accepted for who we are and how we show up in the world.

Using correct pronouns won’t achieve that on its own, but it’s a damn good place to start.

*(xe, ze, sie, co, and ey are a few singular pronouns that some nonbinary people use, but I don’t personally know anyone who uses them.)

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In Defense of “Screens”

I woke up to a text from a friend (on a screen.)

After I showered and made my coffee, I got caught up on email, Facebook and Instagram (on a screen), then I sent off a message regarding a costume for my 13 year old’s upcoming play (on a screen). After that I watched last night’s A Million Little Things (on a screen.)

The TV is off now, and I won’t turn it on again until this afternoon when I watch The Talk (on a screen). It’s a fun little break in the day, and I like to listen to them talking about current events. I’m also a big fan of Amanda Kloots, whose story I started following in 2020 when she began recounting her story of her husband Nick Cordero’s fight with, and ultimately death from, COVID-19. I watched her updates daily on Instagram (on a screen).

In a few hours, I have a dentist appointment. We moved a couple of years ago, and I had to find a new one. I asked for recommendations on Facebook (on a screen), and looked up everyone who was mentioned (on a screen). I checked my insurance website too (on a screen) to see who was or was not covered.

A couple of minutes ago I ran upstairs to talk to my husband who’s working from home today (on a screen), then I got out my laptop to begin this post (on a screen). I found a picture (on a screen), and I started to write (on a screen.)

Forgive my bluntness, but “screen time” is one of the stupidest phrases we’ve collectively come up with as a society. It means literally nothing. In 2021, screens are used for an infinite number of purposes, from utility and information, to communication and entertainment. Lumping all of it into a catch-all phrase of “screen time” makes absolutely no sense.

Another thing that makes no sense? The fact that so many parents hold such a disdain for their kids’ use of “screen time” (“If I let him, he’d be on his tablet ALL DAY!”) then use said screen time as a prime bargaining tool, removing it at the slightest infraction. Which in turn only makes it more alluring, more attractive, more important. The forbidden fruit, if you will. Parents want their kids to regulate, to learn to use screens in a healthy way, but by limiting them and constantly taking them away they’re ensuring that that won’t happen. Screens will be viewed by the child as something to binge, something they must hold on to tightly, to take in as much as they can before they’re taken away again.

I recently saw a reply on a Facebook group where a worried new unschooler was told, “The best way to unschool is to keep your house free of screens.” I could not disagree more. One of the best parts about unschooling is that you have the opportunity to make your kids’ worlds bigger. Why then would you limit them, and in turn make their worlds smaller?

Screens, in all their forms, are tools. And incredible tools at that! I am so thankful, especially over the very weird past 12 months, that my children are able to access their screens whenever they want.

A very, very short list of what screens have allowed my children to do:

Talk with their friends

Play games, alone and with others

Take classes

Write stories

Watch videos

Make videos

Share pictures

Watch movies

Listen to music

Apply for jobs (17 year old)

Code (24 year old)

GOOGLE

How cool is it to have all this technology, all this information, all this learning, all this entertainment, right at their fingertips?

But but… aren’t I worried about child predators? Porn? Addiction? The internet is dangerous!

To that I’d say: First, my children, all teenagers and young adults at the time of this writing, use technology in a very different way than they did when they were seven. While they still had the freedom to use what they’d liked, they did so with much more supervision. It should go without saying that young children need more supervision in general. We did things together. We explored. We partnered. We discussed. It all laid the groundwork for today, where they explore with more freedom. They’re confident, they’re safe, and they still share.

They know that technology and the internet is not something to fear but something to use and enjoy responsibly. They know that they can come to us if they ever have a problem. They know that they can talk to us about anything, including anything they’re doing online. They know that technology is just another tool, one that they can take or leave at any time, and that is neither more nor less valuable than spending time outdoors or playing a board game or painting a picture. It’s just one of a million things they may choose to use, or not, in any given day.

So no, I don’t live in fear of screens. I rather enjoy screens, and am thankful every day that we are lucky enough that they are part of our lives.

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Don’t Yuck Other People’s Yums

The other day I was in a Facebook unschooling group, and a new unschooler was looking for suggestions for YouTube channels for her young daughter. Not because her daughter was explicitly looking for new channels, but because (according to the mother), she was spending too much time watching “stupid and useless” videos.

I gently suggested that a re-frame of how she was viewing her daughter’s choices might be helpful, but I was met only with anger and defensiveness. She knew her daughter, she knew what she was watching, and she knew that it was stupid and useless.

I think the biggest problem – and there are many – with this line of thinking is that it automatically shuts down the line of communication between parent and child. The child knows the parent thinks it’s stupid, and it is something they can not safely share without minimization at best, and ridicule at worst. It makes the child feel bad about their own likes, and by extension about themselves, and makes them less likely to want to share their interests with their parents in the future. And you want to know one of the hallmarks, and indeed one of the most integral parts of unschooling done well? The sharing of interests!

Disparaging someone else’s interests is just poor form. It’s unkind. We all have millions of things we like to do, watch, listen to, play, that may not be everyone’s cup of tea, but that’s what makes the world interesting. How boring it would be if we all liked the same things! As parents, we may not be able to immediately see the inherent value in something our kids are doing, but if they’re choosing to do it, we can rest assured that it’s there. Their interests have meaning. Their interests have value. They are getting something out of that video, even if to you it looks stupid and useless.

It is hurtful to have our passions minimized. It is hurtful to be dismissed. And even if we’re watching something for pure pleasure and/or relaxation and/or escapism? Where is the harm? Where is the justification in making fun of it?

Embracing your loved one’s passions brings you closer. Disparaging them brings you further apart.

No one wants to be belittled for something they enjoy. Especially not our kids, who just want to share their worlds with us, if only we’ll let them.

Let people enjoy things.

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