After following the research on phones and mental health (see @jonathanhaidt and @therealparent), we made a bold decision: the kids would not bring their phone on our spring break vacation.
This wasn’t a punishment. It wasn’t about control. It was an intentional experiment—one that brought back something we’d long been missing. We gave them several months notice. There was some protest, but we stuck to our guns. Limitations on phone use is nothing new in our household and by the time we left they knew there was no negotiation.
This is what we experienced…
They Were Present
Without the pull of screens, our kids looked up. They looked around. They engaged—with us, with the places we visited, with each other. Conversations unfolded in many directions. Meals were longer. Laughter was louder. They were there, and so were we.
Our Time Was Just Ours
There was no quick texting of friends or uploading of photos to share in real-time. No knowledge or concern of what they were missing at home. Our moments stayed inside the bubble of our family and with the history, landscape, and flavors of Italy. They didn’t belong to anyone else. There’s something sacred about that—travel as a private, unfolding story, not a performance.
They Traveled for Themselves
There was no pressure to find the most Instagrammable shot or curate an experience for an audience. They explored because they were curious. They asked questions. They read the signs. They noticed small things: the many colors of marble, the changes in the scenery from the train window, whether the wandering cats looked stray or well fed. They traveled to see, not to be seen.
They Read Books
Actual books. Heavy, dog-eared, marked-up, signed by the author (no kidding somehow we have a signed copy of The Illustrated Man, by Ray Bradbury) books. They each took two, always one in hand in case they had free time and sometimes they were out at the dinner table…hard to complain. We had conversations about what they read. They did the kind of reading that stretches out time and deepens memory.
Our 11-Year-Old Was on Equal Footing
Our youngest, who doesn’t have a phone yet, often feels a little left out when the rest of us disappear into a screen. But this time, we conversed in the dull moments and watched Marvel movies all together on a big screen. Instead of watching them alone, he watched with his brothers.
They Wrote – and Drew – in Their Journals
With no phones to distract or document, they turned to their journals. Sketches of the mountains we hiked, reflections about the day, even tracking daily goals. These weren’t posts for likes; they were pages for self-reflecting and remembering.
They Experienced Freedom
It truthfully didn’t take long for them to adjust. And something remarkable happened: they stopped reaching for something that wasn’t there. They relaxed. They noticed their own thoughts. They seemed lighter. Freer. As if the mental space normally occupied by their devices had made room for something more alive.
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We’re not anti-technology, and this isn’t a manifesto. But this trip reminded us that there’s a version of our family—and of ourselves—that only emerges when the noise quiets and the screens are set aside. We felt it. And we want to feel more of it.
So maybe next time, we’ll leave the phones at home again.
If you feel like you are constantly fighting for meaningful connection with your children or even the usual challenges with teens, reach out for parenting or family sessions with Ethan. You can schedule a consultation here.
