I have an eight-year-old and a six-year-old, so you might think I’d have a couple more years’ grace before anyone asks me for a phone (no such luck). I didn’t have one until I was 13, after all, and all it could do was send SMS messages, make calls, and let me play Snake – the internet and social media were not things my mother had to lose sleep over. Before that, the height of childhood connectivity tech was a pager, and the only notifications interrupting playtime at the park were a string of numbers or a ‘call home’ message (both of which could be easily ignored).
Times are different these days, though, and while the answer from me for a…
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