As One Who Blogs, I am oft receiving emails advising me of all manner of fabulous new invention or app or something that will “keep our children safe”.
I’m also required, to a degree, to be up with the latest parenting trends and behaviours, and one such thing also falls into the realm of “keeping our children safe”. Or, so I am so vehently told. Complete with guilt inducing manipulation.
Whilst I’m not adverse to the idea of children having some sort of tracking device placed on their person, or activated on their phone, as a blanket thing; because I’m well aware there are some (very few) cases where this is actually extremely helpful, for the most part, I am adverse to the idea.
Mostly because – and I generalise, and acknowledge that there are some that do not fall within then the “general” – those who are very much for the idea of tracking their children also know where their children are at all times of the day, anyway.
I personally believe it creates a level of distrust in children, where were you to install some sort of tracking mechanism, you are blatantly stating you do not trust them. Which is not so great for the kids.
Also, I’ve just sent them out of the house, away, somewhere, I don’t care where, just away to give me some quiet time, so why would I want to be constantly checking to see where they are? Really?
It’s just another of those fear things we’ve been fed in copius amounts.
And then I discovered something really disturbing; something most parents I know have no idea is even happening.
It scares me.
And it needs to be stopped.
You see, a few weeks back Monkey Boy had some friends from school over. When
I’d had enough of them it was time for them to go home, they either left or contacted their respective parenents to order a pickup. Or arrange to be picked up. Same same.
Anyhoo, one was there, waiting, and whilst I am mostly oblivious to teenagers looking at their phones, my ears pricked up when I heard “Oh, mum’s still on Gordon Street.”
I casually, non-chalantly slinked over, being all cas and cool and whatevs and stuff (or no doubt some acronym I can’t remember) and expressed my interest in how she knew this. I hadn’t heard her phone ding or anything, so I knew it wasn’t a message.
“Oh, I’m tracking her on my phone,” was the reply.
Children. Teenagers, are tracking their parents.
This is just … creepy.
I guess the only consolation is that teenagers are mostly oblivious to the actual whereabouts of their parents, save for locations such as “not here yet”, “not at the supermarket buying me the stuff I texted her to buy me” and “selfish bitch, not at my beck and call”.
So there is that, I guess.
I was unable to constrain myself, unable to wait for his friends to leave before I expressed my opinion about parents being stalked.
It’s just weird.
Are you even aware you’re being stalked? By your own children?! There’s nowhere to hide, not any more …