Please Consider This My Formal Petition To Bring Back The House Phone

It was a workday for me and a half day of school for my kids. I was deep in writing a communication plan when my phone buzzed. It was a text from a client, but above that was a message from my 11-year-old son asking if he could talk to his friend. Simple enough, right? Not exactly. I realized an hour had passed since he'd reached out, but now I needed to take another step — I had to text his friend's parents.

That is when I said out loud, to no one in particular, "I don't want to be this involved in these kids' social lives." And then I blurted out, "House phone!" like I was answering a question on a game show. You see, if everyone just still had a house phone, their father and I wouldn't have to be in the middle of preteen socializing.

Here's the problem: At my kids' ages — 9 and 11 — every household has its own unique set of rules for screen time and phone communication. Some kids have tablets or phones they can use freely, while others only use their parents' phones. Others get one hour of iPad time a day, no exceptions. Then there are those who have social apps like Messenger Kids or Roblox to chat with their friends. Do I know the specifics of each kid's digital availability? Absolutely not. Do I want to figure out the precise time that one friend's privileges overlap with another iPad hour? Also absolutely not. Do I want my kids blowing up some other parent's phone, especially in the middle of the workday? Again, no.

The whole thing feels like unnecessary layers of parental involvement. If the only way for kids to talk at this age is through their parents being go-betweens, what we've created is essentially a logistical nightmare for something that, in my mind, should be effortless. Why are we micromanaging friendships? I also think my kids are socializing way less than they could be.

Being a preteen in the '80s, phone communication was simpler (albeit attached to the wall). By the time I was 7 or so, I could pick up the house phone, dial my friend's number, and say, "Hello, Mr. Kulkarni, is Anika there?" That singular landline was a direct portal to my social world. Sure, I had to interact politely with my friends' parents (a bonus lesson in social skills), but once I was patched through, the rest was up to us. No parent was coordinating chat logistics.

The house phone served as the great social equalizer. There was no scrambling to find the right numbers for every possible parent who may be together on good terms or apart on bad ones. Never did my parents blow up another mom's phone while she was traveling on business or bother a father sitting at the bedside of a loved one in hospice. Everyone shared the same rules because there was a straightforward system. If your friend was home and available, great. If they weren't, leave a message with a machine or human and wait for a callback.

Once kids hit their teen years and nearly every kid in a squad is armed with a cell phone, landlines don't just lose; they're obliterated. Frankly, my Gen X teenage self would've loved to ditch the tangled cord for the freedom of a cell phone in a heartbeat.

But at 9 and 11, communication ways aren't so universal. These are golden years for building friendships — those tight bonds where kids confide their secrets, form alliances, and learn the building blocks of human connections. But these relationships require space to grow naturally. And right now, it feels like the space is shrinking under the weight of parental involvement. I have a hard time returning all the calls and messages that actually are addressed to me. I want to get out of the way so my kids can do what kids are supposed to do: figure it out for themselves.

Why not bring back a household phone — a simple, no-fuss contraption everyone can use? Or perhaps offering kids too young for smartphones the option of "dumb phones" (simple cell phones without internet access) could be a game-changer. I know parents are inundated with reports of how technology hurts our kids, but using inexpensive phones as primary phones is just going back to the basics.

What becomes strikingly clear is the pressing need for a shift in how we handle these dynamics for younger kids who should be developing their own social circles. Filtering every interaction through parents doesn't just add layers of complexity; it can ultimately hinder genuine connection. When I noticed my son's request to talk with his friend had sat dormant for more than an hour, I was a little bummed for him. He was taking as much responsibility as he felt was both polite and possible to do.

I also know I'm not the only one who feels the frustration of coordinating every detail, like sending a flurry of text messages to set up a 10-minute Roblox session with another parent while our kids wait for the adults to figure it out. It's time to rethink how we empower safe, independent interactions for kids while giving parents more space to breathe.

Jamie Kaye Walters is a communications agency owner and former TV producer based in Detroit. A mom to two charming kids, she once dreamed of becoming an MTV VJ when it seemed like a promising career. Read more at VVK PR + Creative.