The Great Screen Hide-and-Seek: Mum vs. The Streak Addicts
When I imagined parenting a teenager, I thought I’d be worried about boyfriends/girlfriends, bad grades, or the odd rebellious backchat. What I didn’t bank on was that my fiercest parenting battles would be fought over tiny glowing rectangles, screens.
This summer, my 13-year-old and I have been locked in a stealth war: me, the weary screen police; him, the master of covert operations. Our deal is simple on paper: screens come out only once all the “real life” things are done. Exercise, reading, walking the dog, music practice, emptying the dishwasher, you know, all those enriching tasks that make you an interesting adult one day.
But let’s just say my sweet boy’s commitment to honesty has been... flexible. I’m talking a level of sneakiness that would make a Bond villain jealous. He’s been rummaging through drawers like a raccoon on a midnight snack run, unearthing old devices I didn’t even know we still owned, and stashing them in his bed. Addiction-level determination, folks.
At first, I thought it was harmless and typical teenage behaviour. But then I saw the look in his eyes: the sheer panic when I confiscated the devices, the elaborate lies, the crocodile tears. We’ve had many ‘heart to hearts’ (me, dramatically asking Why must you lie? Lying is always worse than the crime!) and attempts to reset the honesty meter. Last night, I caught him red-handed with his brother’s ancient iPod. He burst into tears and wailed, “I’m a terrible person! I’m a worse liar than Trump!”
Obviously, I hugged him tight and assured him that absolutely no one is worse than Trump (a comforting universal truth, really). That, my darling boy, is quite literally impossible. Though, in my head, I did wonder if he might be a close second.
This morning, he shuffled into the kitchen, all sheepish, and said, “Last night while I was getting water, I heard you tell Daddy you hide the devices in your underwear drawer… so can you please move them? So I’m not tempted.”
And that, my friends, was when I realised I am now down to exactly zero private spaces in this house. The underwear drawer was my last sacred hiding place. Everything else is fair game for teenage boys, and worse, I’ll probably forget where I’ve re-hidden them anyway. Maybe that’s the real parenting hack? Lose the screens altogether because you’ve hidden them too well for even yourself to find.
Screen Addiction: It’s Not Just Them, It’s All of Us
Turns out, my sweet boy isn’t alone in this struggle. Here are some terrifying data points:
Tweens are typically on entertainment screens for 5–6 hours daily, though total device time (including school use) could reach 7½ hours.
Teens show heavier usage—7 to 9 hours per day on average, with over half exceeding 4 hours on weekdays alone.
https://www.cdc.gov/nchs/products/databriefs/db513.htm
It’s not just about Fortnite or TikTok, the dopamine hits from gaming and scrolling are engineered to be addictive. According to the American Academy of Pediatrics, excessive screen time is linked to sleep issues, anxiety, poor academic performance, and good old-fashioned mood swings. Which, if you’ve met a 13-year-old boy lately, you’ll know they don’t exactly need help with.
As the historian Christian Lous Lange wisely said, “Technology is a useful servant but a dangerous master.”
And before I get too high and mighty about his screen habits, I’m no better. I’m currently 432 days deep into a Duolingo Spanish streak. Do I have any actual plans to visit a Spanish-speaking country in the near future? Absolutely not. And yet, every night you’ll find me in bed, eyes half-closed, desperately whispering “El gato come la manzana” just to keep that streak alive. Meanwhile, my Liar-in-Chief is no different, he’s hoarding streaks in three languages, chess, and English grammar. It’s not even about what we’re learning anymore… it’s about keeping the damn digital streak going. Like mother, like son. I touched on my hypocritical screen addition in this tragic and honest post:
The Real Battle: Teaching Balance
This has sparked endless conversations in our house, about honesty, self-control, and how to outwit a kid who is 100% convinced he’s already outwitted me. We’re trying all sorts of new tactics: more family activities, watercolour painting (which, I probably need more than he does), and brisk walks on the trails while I am trying to mentally channel Captain Von Trapp blowing a whistle and barking orders at my reluctant brood.
And then there are the constant reminders that yes, I can check his screen usage data on my phone (thank you, Apple family sharing!) and that one way or another, I will uncover the secret gadget stash. Eventually. Probably. Always.
Where Do I Hide the Screens Next?
I’m currently taking suggestions for new hiding places. The tool box in the garage? The freezer? A locked box in my pants drawer? Or should I just embrace my inevitable forgetfulness and hope with my Menopause Brain the devices stay hidden forever?
If you’ve cracked the code on how to raise a screen-savvy kid without turning into the Gestapo, do share. And if, like me, you’re standing guard at the underwear drawer, in your ratty Pjs, clutching confiscated gadgets like trophies, solidarity, my friend.
We’ll get through this. Maybe not with our sanity entirely intact, but at least the dog still wants to hang out with me, screens or no screens.
Unconditional love: one thing you can’t download.
Other posts that may make you giggle:
I once got up in the middle of the night and changed the password on all of the screens over which I had control - his ipad, my iphone, an old ipad - and the screen time password, because I couldn't sleep worrying about the lying and what that meant for who my son would become one day. When I woke up in the morning, I couldn't remember ANY of the passwords... I spent the day wiping and resetting devices, swearing to myself. This was before anyone explained the real menopause symptoms to me...
Screens are SO hard to navigate. I’m glad I’m not alone in it!