My Little Future iPad Addicts

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Technology has long created a generation gap, even if it wasn’t always as noticeable. Just 15 years ago, while I was in college, my grandmother struggled to master the voice-mail box. She spoke into the machine as if dictating a letter. After the beep, she’d say, “Dear Jackie, I hope you have a great time at the smoker tonight. What will you wear? A pair of slacks? Love, Granny.” I always loved that she thought the fraternity and sorority “mixers” I attended were called smokers. I thought a smoker actually sounded more fun.

But today’s technology evolves so fast that my rules can’t keep up. My children’s new media consumption is no longer defined by what I allow. I can lay down strict rules, but it’s like oxygen; it permeates everything. My daughter has recently mastered Instagram. A baby sitter showed her how to use it, once, which is all it took. This new generation masters screen-swiping years before butt-wiping.

Our rotating crew of 20-something baby sitters has exposed my kids to a slew of inappropriate content: One sitter accidentally revealed a naked photo of her fiancé posing, full frontal, in front of a jacuzzi. “Why would someone take a picture like that?” my daughter asked me that night. Another young caretaker clicked on a music video of the popular song “Party Rockers,” not realizing it was R-rated. “Mom!” my son squealed, “the singer said, ‘I’m going to make you lose your mind,’ and then ripped his pants off!”

“Um, he was warm?” I tried to explain.

At a restaurant for Cinco de Mayo last month, my daughter pulled my smartphone out of my bag. Before I could lick another piece of salt off my margarita glass, she had snapped a photo of my husband, cropped it, picked her favorite Instagram filter to enhance it, and posted it on my feed for all of the online world to see. This from the daughter whose mother only allows apps on airplanes.

But while it may feel like the rules of parenting have changed on me, I know that my struggle is merely a new version of the age-old dilemma: How to give your children enough rules to protect, but not suffocate them. Ultimately, I don’t want to dictate what my kids do; I want them to self-regulate technology, the same way they’ll have to with sugar — and later, as adults, with credit cards, work and margaritas. It’s not always easy. But I will keep fighting valiantly to get them to turn off their devices once in a while; ask them to think before they post. “What you write on the Web, stays in everyone’s head!” I’ll remind them over the years, wagging my finger back and forth as they roll their eyes. A refrain that just may become this generation’s annoying parental scold. But maybe — maybe — they’ll actually hear it.

And one poignant afternoon, when the time comes to drop my daughter off at college, I’ll cock my head toward the sky with a satisfied look that says,  Fly away safely, my love. I’ll congratulate myself on raising a wise girl, who is confident enough to make her own good choices. As my husband starts to drive away, he and I will exchange a bittersweet look and, then, panicked, I’ll roll down my window to utter one final piece of advice. “Remember what I said about e-signatures, sweetie!” I’ll yell to her across the quad. “Nobody wants to know if you eat tha pussé!”