In an era where we hear all about the downfalls of technology and the dangers of putting devices into the hands of our children, I want to share a positive story. Our oldest daughter Wren has had access to a phone for a while. For several years, we had an extra phone in the house that she brought to dance class or playdates and she also used it to text with friends. Using the phone this way allowed us to set up expectations and limits. It was never her phone, we just referred to it as “the purple phone” and it lived on our kitchen counter. It was a nice soft start into the world of technology.

Fast forward to August, as we prepared to enter the world of middle school and Wren getting herself on the bus on her own each morning. “Can the purple phone just be mine now?” Wren asked and with a bit of trepidation, we agreed that the time had come. The purple phone became Wren’s phone, on the condition that she texted us every morning from the bus stop, she kept it in her locker at school, and she continued to use it in positive and kind ways.

On the very first day that Wren got herself to the bus stop, my husband, Arnauld, and I received this text in a group chat.

Wren’s feet. This same photo, albeit with different shoes and weather, quickly became something we could rely on. I loved this daily peek at my girl (and have even written about my pride in all the places those feet have brought her this year before!). Somewhere along the way, my emoji loving husband began to respond to Wren’s photo with a daily simile, comparing his love for Wren to something silly “I love you like I love a three day weekend” or “I love you like I love you and Ad comparing whose finger sprain looked worse this morning.”

While I have saved every photo of Wren’s feet, she has saved every one of Arnauld’s similes in an album on her phone. These once spontaneous moments have become rituals I treasure.