I was putting groceries away in the kitchen while my 11-year-old son sat at the counter eating a snack, when I heard a “ping.” I suspected it was his Apple watch, but that was weird, since he only uses it to communicate with my husband and me when he’s out of the house. As I fumbled some groceries into a cabinet, a melody of pings began, followed by an alarming tween giggle. “What’s that?” I asked. “Oh, Mom, it’s the sixth-grade group chat!” he responded excitedly.

Well, shit.

To say I am not ready to be the mom of a child on a group chat is an understatement. I can’t even comprehend that enough time has passed since changing his diaper to bring us to this point. I’m dragging my feet just by sticking him with the watch instead of the iPhone that most of his friends already have, naively thinking that might delay some of these technologically advanced communication techniques. But, of course, here we are.

So, without completely squashing what was clearly an exciting addition to his day, I sat down to chat with him about it. I reiterated my rule: I am free to read it all whenever I want to ensure everything is safe and appropriate. And we sat there and went through the chat together.

To be honest, it was harmless. It was chaotic as shit but harmless. A handful of his besties had their names programmed into his phone. Still, other than that it was a bunch of unknown numbers popping up, sharing questions about class assignments and sports schedules with random emojis and middle-school slang I couldn’t quite understand. But even after seeing firsthand the innocuousness of it all, I still didn’t like it.

I just don’t understand the upside of so many kids having a permanent trail of written exchanges at this age. It feels so unmonitored and messy. I miss the family phone in the kitchen, where you could at least eavesdrop pretty effectively. And I really feel like allowing someone with an 11-year-old maturity level and brain capacity to engage in this is just setting them up for failure.

Of course, that may sound dramatic to some. It just seems to me like potentially hurting feelings, wanting to be funny but perceived as offensive comments, and everything in between is inevitable in an environment like this. Not because any of the kids aren’t “good kids,” but because they are too young to control their impulses and understand the nuances and boundaries in communication. And then to have all of it on record for the whole grade (and those people’s parents and friends) to see!

So call me uncool, but I made him delete it. And to be honest, I’m struggling with that too. We live in this weird time where some things that feel so logically and instinctually bad are commonplace. Things like TikTok and Twitter — when I sit and really think of the impact of these things, my feelings are predominately only negative. But because in 2024 “everyone is doing it,” we have somehow numbed ourselves into thinking it’s fine. And then part of me that worries about his FOMO! What if he doesn’t get an invite to something because it goes out on the group chat? What if the chat is where people bond and connect, and he gets left in the middle school social scene dust? I don’t like it.

But I just can’t have my son’s attention constantly fixated on his wrist, where 30 kids are dinging and donging all day about who knows what, saying some things they likely wouldn’t say to each other’s faces. While I know I will eventually need to let him have some privacy and independence in a world where communication is so heavily based on technology, I have decided that 11 is not that time.

I will continue to let him have his text conversations with his best friends, the ones I know, and those he agrees I can read. For now, we will leave the big sixth-grade group conversations for the lunch room and recess, where I hope they stay for as long as possible.

Samm is an ex-lawyer and mom of four who swears a lot. Find her on Instagram @sammbdavidson.