I Love You Too Much to Get You a Phone

When my 4th grader told me we were the only parents who didn’t let their kids have their own phones, iTouches, or tablets, my answer was constant: “I love you too much to give you one.”

I am not opposed to phones for conversation, but I despise them as tools of mindless occupation, dangerous gateways, confidence breakers, and accidental — or intentional — bullying. I love you too much to get you a phone means exactly that. It is not punishment. It is love.

What I Love You Too Much to Get You a Phone Actually Means

Kids everywhere are experiencing life with their heads down. They are missing the best parts of living while locked into a screen. I would hate for my boys to know the inner workings of their cyber world and miss the wonder and beauty of the physical world around them.

We have long Saturdays with endless games and countless errands to run. It would be infinitely easier for me to stick a device in each child’s hand and let them zone, leaving me in peace. But then they would miss cheering for each other, finding bugs with their toddler brother, making new friends on the sidelines, eating old popcorn under the bleachers, getting too hot to wear a sweatshirt, crossing the monkey bars, learning about the cost of food and healthy choices, and being introduced to 90’s rock. They miss childhood.

The Specific Thing I Was Protecting Them From

With electronics, kids often trade goodness for filth. Giving a young child a phone with Internet access, Instagram, or Snapchat is — as one friend put it — gifting “pocket porn.” I am not naive to the places this content can be accessed, which is why we have regular, open conversations about what they see and hear at home and in other places.

While postponing personal devices does not solve all problems, I was willing to battle this every way I possibly could. My kids deserved time to grow and mature physically, emotionally, and spiritually before being confronted with images they could not process or discard. Raising boys who see the world through eyes of respect and equality was incredibly important to me, and that could not happen with minds overexposed before they were ready.

What They Had at 8, 9, and 11

At 8, 9, and 11, my kids liked who they were. They had good, kind friends. They saw themselves as interesting, smart, and fun. I had no desire for that to change because of their number of followers or likes. I had no desire for them to see pictures of a party they weren’t invited to, read comments about their braces, or wonder why more people didn’t wish them a happy birthday.

Being young and innocent does not last long. I was not going to be the one responsible for hurrying it. I wanted them to be their authentic selves for as long as possible — to put their energy into living their own life, not wishing they had someone else’s.

What Were They Actually Missing Out On?

When my boys got a brief exposure to a borrowed phone during the holidays, there were lots of heads down, some sneaking, FaceTiming with girls, and insults thrown through texts. The phone was not available for long. And what were they really missing without it? Looking cool. Bragging rights. A chance at popularity. In reality — absolutely nothing worth the trade.

My answer, for that season of their lives, remained the same. Why didn’t they have phones? Simply put: because I love them too much.

Related Reading

• how to use external tech controls to keep screen time in check
• how to reduce screen time for teens
• school mental health week

Helpful External Resources

• Common Sense Media — when is a child ready for a smartphone

Frequently Asked Questions

Why did Brooke Romney say “I love you too much to get you a phone”?

Brooke’s concern was not that phones are inherently evil — her family had TV, computers, a gaming system, and a tablet. Her concern was age-appropriateness: that a 4th grader was not yet ready for Instagram followers, Snapchat, rate-me games, and content no child can fully process. “I love you too much” placed the refusal inside genuine care for the child’s wellbeing rather than arbitrary rules.

What is the right age to get a child a phone?

Brooke’s view — written when her boys were 8, 9, and 11 — was that children deserve a window to grow up without the social comparison and content exposure smartphones bring. The right age depends on the child’s maturity, the specific phone’s capabilities, and whether the child has the tools to handle what they will encounter. Practical external controls (see linked post) help when the time does come.

How do you handle it when your child says they’re the only one without a phone?

“I love you too much” reframes the conversation from deprivation to protection. Rather than “because I said so,” it places the refusal inside genuine care. What are they missing? Looking cool, bragging rights, a chance at popularity. What are they gaining? An authentic self, real-world friendships, and a childhood that does not get handed to a screen before they are ready.