“I need to figure out how to approach my kids differently when they are on their devices. The moment I see my kid on his phone, I tense up,” a parent recently shared.
“What do you think is going on?” I asked.
“I’m not sure. Maybe I can feel a battle coming,” she replied. Then she added, “I’m instantly annoyed with him and with myself at the same time. It usually goes sideways, so it’s not a great dynamic.”
“Is he overall really struggling with his phone?” I asked.
“That’s the thing… not really!” she responded. “Of course, there are some days of too-much-scrolling. Overall, though, he’s doing okay with it.”
“Yeah, I totally get it. It’s hard to right-size our reactions when it comes to tech. There’s a lot of potential for shark music,” I empathized.
She started laughing, and I quickly learned why. She was picturing the song Baby Shark and couldn’t square it with the scenario.
“No,” I said, laughing as well. “I’m thinking more about a much more ominous track.”
“Ah, Jaws. Got it.”
“Shark Music”
The idea of “shark music” is not my own. First introduced by the Circle of Security program and further popularized by Dr. Dan Siegel and Tina Payne Bryson, the concept helps bring awareness to the internal soundtrack that plays in our heads while parenting. The tone and tenor of this music can prime our interactions and trigger strong emotional responses.
Imagine yourself on a beach, watching your kids swim. Now cue up a soundtrack that feels steady, uplifting, or even joyful. What do you notice? Contrast this with the Jaws theme running in the background. These divergent soundtracks quickly shift our sense of what might be happening in the water. It also shifts what we do next.
Sometimes the tune matches the scenario. If we regularly visit a beach where there are shark sightings, then the Jaws theme might rightfully cue us to be on high alert. On the other hand, if sharks are more rare, constant “shark music” would make it nearly impossible to enjoy the water at all.
Our internal soundtracks don’t come out of nowhere. Sometimes they trace back to deep roots, including childhood experiences or family patterns. But sometimes the source is closer to the surface.
The Stories We Tell Ourselves
It takes effort for us human beings to stay in the present. That’s by design. Learning from the past and anticipating the future is highly adaptive. Our ability to rewind and fast forward is so central to our way of navigating the world that we usually don’t even realize we are doing it.
Two things can make this challenging when it comes to parenting. First, it’s hard to stay present with the behaviors and interactions in front of us. Second, parenting is a joy…and emotionally exhausting. Our first reactions are not always driven by a thoughtful, whole, and accurate picture of what is currently going on. Instead, “shark music” can cause us to quickly fall into fear-based interactions that escalate conflict.
Let’s return to the phone example. Assuming they aren’t crossing a specific boundary or expectation, a teenager on their phone is a fairly neutral or mundane activity. Until the internal “shark music” starts playing. Suddenly, the behavior feels ominous and unpredictable. According to Siegel and Payne Bryson, shark music is often amplified by:
Past negative experiences: We selectively recall negative experiences from the past. We quickly conjure up all. the. times. our kids have been irresponsible or annoying with their phones.
Future worries: We zoom ahead. What if they never get off their phone? What if this gets in the way of their ability to form healthy relationships, hold down a job, or contribute to their communities in adulthood?
In place of an open-ended and unfolding story, our internal soundtrack says: “There is probably something very bad happening now and it’s only going to get worse in the future.” Cue the shark music. Cue the power struggle.
Sometimes we turn the lens toward ourselves. This doesn’t go any better:
Past negative experiences: “I really messed up by getting them a phone in the first place. I never should have done that. I probably didn’t even set it up right. I’m so bad at parental controls. Add this to my long list of parenting failures.”
Future worries: “Because of me, this kid might be on an inevitable trajectory toward ruin.”
The Stories We Tell Each Other
Our mental models aren’t based on personal experience alone. We don’t each need to go into shark-infested waters if we can share the news of sharks across our entire community. Sharing critical information and telling cultural stories is key to our survival.
The challenge is that when it comes to kids and tech, fear-based messaging is the norm. Catastrophic coverage dominates the headlines and morning shows. A steady drumbeat of messaging communicates a simple story to parents: kids plus screens equals inevitable harm, full stop.
In other words, the message is that sharks are everywhere and they live in our devices.
The Evidence-Based Soundtrack Is… More Complicated
All this media coverage shines a spotlight on a set of issues that certainly demands our collective attention. Yet, too often, the simple story leads to blunt, one-size-fits-all solutions. In contrast, the most recent policy statement from the American Academy of Pediatrics lays out a strong evidence base for a systems approach to wellbeing in the digital age. This includes recognizing both the benefits and harms, passing thoughtful tech policy, investing in child-centered design, and building better supports for parents.
In this context, it is reasonable to consider personal actions like delaying social media, skill building with first devices, and paying close attention to digital content and design. It’s also reasonable to consider collective actions like organizing for accessible third spaces, affordable childcare, and media literacy in schools.
Yet the dominant simple story about kids and tech is making it harder to parent at home. For the kid standing at the kitchen counter with their phone, the mere presence or absence of a device doesn’t tell us nearly enough to predict outcomes. The latest scientific evidence demonstrates that individual outcomes are shaped by who kids are, what they are doing, when and why they turn to tech, and what is going on around them.
The Real Cost of Shark Music
Pointing out this nuance isn’t about trying to win some endless academic debate. It also isn’t about letting tech companies off the hook. As parents, the real cost of a simple and scary story about kids and screens is that it makes it harder to see what is happening in front of us and to give our kids the targeted supports they need to thrive.
A young person using their phone to connect with friends who then moves on to another activity needs something very different from a young person who is consistently using their phone to avoid socializing altogether. It prevents us from noticing green flags and reinforcing healthy use. It also reinforces the idea that any screen time is somehow failing as a parent. So we tense up and prepare for battle or give up and hope it works out.
In other words, constant shark music can undermine the very thing that children and teens need to thrive online and offline: a working, warm relationship with a caring adult.
Non-judgmental, curious conversations between caregivers and kids are so important that the American Academy of Pediatrics Center of Excellence on Social Media and Youth Mental Health published conversation starters for children ages ten and under and during adolescence. A recent study found that the quality of parent-child communication and healthy family internet habits were associated with lower rates of problematic internet use in teens, more so than strict time limits alone. This reflect longstanding research about the positive effects associated with authoritative parenting. This approach is not all chatting and sunshine. Kids still rely on adults to hold firm and purposeful boundaries. But within those boundaries, they benefit when we also prioritize warmth, connection, communication, skill building, agency, and learning.
A Different Soundtrack
Notice the music. To shift toward a more positive, working relationship around technology, the first step is simply awareness. When you feel yourself tensing up around your kid and their devices, pause. An influential song might be playing in the background. It could be driven by a series of recent power struggles, a headline you read last week, or a runaway worry about what comes next. Don’t fight the music off, just notice it.
Lower the volume. Noticing the music doesn’t make it stop but there are things we can do to turn down the volume. We can take a beat and a deep breath. We can ask ourselves: How am I doing? Sometimes the soundtrack is about the systems around us: Am I mad at my kid or mad at the fact that I can’t access affordable afterschool programming? What do I have control over in this moment? Does this soundtrack match what’s actually happening in front of me right now? Sometimes it does. Often it doesn’t. The biggest benefit of turning down the music is that it allows us to get curious about ourselves and our kids.
Look for green flags. Even when we drop into the present, we’re wired to scan for problems. Deliberately looking for digital strengths can help us build a more accurate picture of our kids’ digital lives. Is your kid putting the device down when dinner starts? Extending and deepening school friendships? Laughing at something they want to show you? Those moments are real data too.
Address the challenges together. Turning down the shark music isn’t about dismissing real concerns, it’s about staying connected so we can navigate them together. This might mean just listening. It might mean problem-solving. It might mean reinforcing boundaries. It might mean expanding our circle of care to include a doctor or therapist. All of these things are easier to do when the soundtrack has become more attuned to what’s going on and the volume is low enough that there is still room for us to write some new lyrics together.