Is This Helping My Kid Become More Themselves?

When I was younger, I watched my older sister constantly become a new person through the music she blared through her boombox. One week she was soulful and serious, listening to R.E.M. like she had been born with mysterious inner depth. Then a new friend appeared, or a new boy entered the picture, and suddenly the soundtrack abruptly changed. Sublime. Pink Floyd. The Aquabats. Each new interest arrived with full emotional commitment, as if the previous version of her had packed a bag and left town. As her younger brother, I found this both confusing and useful. Confusing because I could not keep up. Useful because older siblings are often the first field guide we get to adolescence. Watching her, I learned something I did not have words for yet:growing up involves trying on versions of yourself before you know which ones fit. That kind of trying-on is part of healthy development. Kids borrow tastes, jokes, clothes, slang, causes, friend-group habits, and the interests of whoever they currently admire. Sometimes the borrowed thing sticks. Sometimes it passes in a week. Sometimes it becomes an embarrassing family memory everyone agrees to mention only at weddings. So when a kid comes home speaking in memes, quoting some strange video, or using a phrase that sounds like language fell down the stairs, it is tempting to shrug and say, 'Kids will be kids.' And sometimes that is true. But many parents are also noticing something else: their kid does not even have a phone yet, and somehow they already know all of it. They know the sound. They know the joke. They know the phrase. They know the dance, which may be alarming for several reasons. And the parent thinks, reasonably,How do you know this? The answer is simple and annoying:digital culture leaks. A kid does not need a phone to absorb phone culture.They can watch over a friend's shoulder before school. They can see clips on the bus, at lunch, or at practice. A friend can text videos to a family iPad. A cousin can pull up YouTube. Grandma's smart TV can become a bottomless pit of videos while the adults are talking in the kitchen. A parent can delay the device and still watch the culture arrive through side doors. So the question is bigger than, 'Does my kid have a phone?' The better question is, 'What is already forming my kid?' That is where the weird memes, strange slang, endless clips, and what kids now call 'brainrot' are worth taking seriously. I do not think parents need to panic every time a kid repeats a dumb phrase from the internet. Good news, because that would be a full-time job with terrible benefits. Kids have always had strange jokes and little codes adults did not understand. That is part of how they find each other. But I also do not think we should shrug it off just because it helps them belong. Some of this content gives kids real social currency. It lets them say, 'I get it. I'm in on the joke. I know the code.' For a kid trying to find their place, that can be huge. Social currency and identity, though, are not the same thing. A kid can know every trend and still have very little sense of what is actually theirs. My sister's music phases came through people she knew. A friend. A boy. A scene. A car ride. A CD someone burned. There was plenty of performance in it, of course. Adolescence has always included some costume changes. But those interests still had a little friction. You had to find the album, listen to it, talk about it, sit with it, and maybe decide whether this was really you or just Tuesday. Today's feed removes much of that friction. Kids can try on a hundred micro-identities before lunch. They can absorb the joke, the dance, the slang, the outrage, the outfit, the opinion, the aesthetic, and the group signal in a matter of minutes. Then the feed offers the next one. Exploration is good, but endless reaction is different. Healthy identity formation needs room for kids to try things on, and it also needs room for something to settle. A kid needs enough time and space to ask, 'Do I actually like this? Does this fit me? Do I want more of this? What kind of person does this help me become?' The feed rarely asks those questions. It asks for the next reaction. That is why I think this may be one of the better questions a parent can ask right now:Is this helping my kid become more themselves? I don't mean every interest has to become a life calling. Please. A kid can enjoy a dumb video without us turning it into a family values summit. Sometimes a meme is just a meme. But over time, the pattern matters. This Substack is reader-supported. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Some things pull at a kid because everyone is watching. Some things draw a kid because they fit something deeper. A passing pull says, 'Everyone is into this.' A deeper draw says, 'I keep coming back to this even when no one is watching.' A passing pull says, 'This gets a reaction.' A deeper draw says, 'This feels connected to who I am becoming.' A passing pull says, 'I need to keep up.' A deeper draw says, 'I want to stay with this long enough to grow.' Kids do not automatically know the difference. Honestly, adults do not always know the difference either. I have opened my phone to check one thing and surfaced forty minutes later knowing more about a stranger's kitchen remodel than my own emotional state. So no, I don't think we should simply trust the impulse. I do think we should listen to it, though. A kid's draw toward brainrot likely reveals a real need: connection with peers, humor, escape, status, relief, or a break from stress. That does NOT mean the content is good for them. It means the behavior is giving us a clue. So the parent's job is not to mock the meme. The parent's job is to get curious about the need, then help the kid notice what the need is costing them. Does it leave you lighter or more numb? Does it help you belong in a way that feels real, or does it make you anxious about staying current? Does it open up shared laughter, or does it make slower things feel boring? Does it help you know yourself, or does it keep you scanning the room for what to copy next? I have been trying to ask better versions of these questions in my own house. Usually, I don't get a deep, insightful answer. Sometimes I get a shrug. Sometimes I get 'I don't know.' Sometimes I get the look that says, 'Dad has entered annoying research mode. Please send help.' Fair. But every once in a while, a real answer slips out. A kid mentions that a certain kind of video makes them feel gross afterward. Or that they only watch something because everyone else is talking about it. Or that they like a song, a sport, a story, a topic, or a hobby differently than the other stuff. They talk about it with more energy. They return to it when no one is prompting them. They seem more alive after doing it, not more drained. Those are clues too. Parents can help protect those signals. We can make room for boredom, because boredom often gives deeper interests a chance to emerge. We can limit endless input, because constant input makes self-knowledge harder. We can pay attention to what gives our kids energy after the first buzz fades. We can say what we notice without turning it into a sermon. 'You seem more like yourself after you do that.' 'You seem tense after those videos.' 'I notice you keep coming back to this.' 'You talk about this differently than other things.' Those small comments help kids build self-awareness. They help kids notice their own inner life, which is easy to miss in a culture that keeps handing them the next thing to want. This is guided identity formation. Parents do not need to hand a kid an identity. It can't work that way. We do not need to control every interest, ban every trend, or make the house a no-fun museum of approved hobbies. And we really do not need to turn every meme into a moral lesson. Your kid will flee, and honestly, fair. But we do need to create the conditions where a kid can hear themselves more clearly. That work starts before the first phone. Your kid may not have a phone yet, but they are already living in a phone-shaped culture.The jokes, trends, sounds, clips, and status games are already moving through the hallways, lunch tables, carpools, group chats, cousin visits, and smart TVs. The first phone does not begin digital formation. It usually reveals how much formation has already been happening. So the question is not only, 'When do I give my kid a phone?' It is also, 'How do I help my kid become themselves in a culture that is constantly telling them what to notice, copy, want, and repeat?' The feed can show a kid what is popular everywhere. It cannot tell them what is importantto them. That is where parents still matter. We help kids notice what is pulling them. We help them name what they need. We help them make room for the things that keep calling them back after the trend dies down. The goal is not a kid who never quotes a dumb meme. The goal is a kid who can laugh with their friends and still hear themselves. A kid who can participate in culture without being owned by it. A kid who can say, 'That's funny,' and also say, 'That's not me.' That is identity formation. And in a world built to keep kids reacting, becoming more themselves may be one of the most important forms of freedom we can help them practice. Leave a comment Share