![]() ![]() ![]() I wanted to celebrate the young woman she was becoming. I was tempted to pine for the days of pigtails and “ Me do it.” I shook my head. I attributed the misstep to cockiness.Īs she sat with headphones on singing along to increasingly mature lyrics from Taylor Swift, I saw her blossoming into an almost sixth-grader. We worked through it (thank you to Apple for giving us one get-out-of-jail-free card). I’d read about kids racking up hundreds of dollars worth of iTunes purchases, but my naiveté led me to believe that an in-app purchase for a kids’ game would be 99 cents, not $49 in one click. We had a hiccup with in-app purchases one Saturday. “Did you know you can swipe to take a picture without unlocking your phone? Or that you can swipe to answer a text?” She was so earnest about the technology and reverent about her passage to phone ownership, I was elated. In fact, she cracked me up with her passion for the Tips feature. ![]() The phone didn’t transform her into a hunched over, surly tween. The biggest rules were: No buying apps without a discussion, and her Dad and I would be able to read her texts. I said no to Instagram and Facebook, but let her get photo editing apps. She could create her own playlists and mess around in Minecraft, but she could also walk home and meet her sisters as they got off their school bus. We thought it would be the perfect milestone of independence and responsibility. She hadn’t yet experienced any demonstrable privileges, like a later bedtime or a large allowance that distinguished her as the oldest of our daughters. We bought our daughter an iPhone for her 10th birthday. ![]()
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