Let’s Call Mom
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My Child Won’t Stop Calling Me on His Smartwatch
By Jamie Taylor | Aug. 12, 2022
This summer has turned into a smartwatch saga in my household. After my ten-year-old received one for Christmas, my eight-year-old couldn’t stop asking for his own. I hesitated, but once summer break started, I saw that these gadgets, with their basic calling and texting features, could offer my kids a taste of independence (like biking or wandering through the woods to a nearby park program) while calming my nerves. However, this little tech experiment has taken an unexpected turn.
My ten-year-old is using his smartwatch as intended. He’s a confident kid who rarely feels the need to check in. He’ll call if it’s important, and he answers when my anxiety calls for a little reassurance, but mostly, he loves using it to track his steps. He simply doesn’t need that direct connection to me when he’s off on his own, and that’s always been his style.
My eight-year-old, on the other hand, is a different story. He tends to get anxious in new situations and really benefits from those check-ins. He’s always been the child who panics if I’m out of sight for even a moment, needing to know where I am during his games. So, I should have anticipated that giving him a direct line to me would lead to excessive use.
On the very first day at a local morning park camp, I dropped my boys off with counselors and friends. They were told to play for three hours before heading home through the woods. Not even halfway down the street, I received my first call. “Hi Mom! Just checking to see if this works!” We had already tested it seventeen times that morning.
Fifteen minutes later came call number two, where he informed me he felt a raindrop. Given the clear sunny skies, I suggested it was probably just a drop from someone’s water bottle, but I promised to pick him up if real rain began. Then he called again, this time to let me know he’d twisted his ankle but was okay. He also had to share that he made a new friend, got gum on his shoe, and that someone said I was a “dingbat.”
Since that day, he’s inundated me with calls and voice memos. Some have been frantic, like when I forgot to send him with bus money and he thought he’d miss his group. Others are trivial, like when he remembered the name of his favorite chips or got bitten by a mosquito. Each time, I remind him that I’m glad to hear from him but that he can enjoy his day and we can chat about everything when he gets home. And honestly, I think I’m starting to love it.
Before long, he’ll be too cool to share every little detail with me. He’ll be off with friends, dodging my calls and giving one-word responses to my questions. So for now, I’m embracing these sixty check-ins every morning. I’ll cherish his little voice and anxious energy. I’ll keep charging his watch every night, strapping it on each morning, and answering his endless calls throughout the day because I know these moments will soon be a fleeting memory.