Oh hi everybody!

There are 50,000 of us now (!) and we're celebrating with a big discount

Hello sapiens, old and new! As usual, I’ve used too many words in this post. So, to summarize:

• There are 50,000 of us now. Holy cow!

• To celebrate, paid subscriptions are 50% off this week only

• When you upgrade, you’ll get access to lots of fun stuff! That includes: all past and future posts, the Q&A Hub (with my answers to all your pressing tech and parenting questions), late-breaking research updates, discounts on my tech parenting courses, and (new!) subscriber-only chats, where you can join real-time discussions with me and other sapiens.

---

6 min read

It is 8:30pm on a Saturday, and I’m at the kids’ table.

Well, not at, exactly. Underneath. A precious bracelet, fashioned out of a crumbling paper straw wrapper, has fallen off a tiny wrist. I’m crouched unsteadily with a pregnant belly, feeling around for it on the carpet as I try to manage the crisis. Small, butter-soaked fingers grab at my hair from the highchair above.

We’ve found ourselves at an upscale restaurant in downtown Washington, DC, halfway through a multi-course, seated dinner. We’re in a beautiful, intimate space, surrounded by over 50 smiling family members. The event is perfect. The food is delicious.

My children are losing their minds.

I emerge with the prized jewel, sweating. My 3-year-old flings himself under the table. My 20-month old snatches a bread knife from his seat on my lap. Spaghetti hits the wall behind us. Ice water spills down my dress. Demands for MO CHICKIN¹ ring out. I’m frantically slicing chicken fingers when I hear high-pitched shouting to my left.

With joyful conversation echoing around us, my 3-year-old is now resting his elbows on the white tablecloth, squeezing his eyes shut, and clamping his hands over his ears.

TOO! MUCH! TALKING! He yells.

I glance down at our bag, discarded toys and books spilling out over the floor, and that’s when I see them: children’s headphones.

Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, I realize, is a mere click away on my phone.

Now, I have a decision to make. Is it time to bring out the big guns? A hundred research studies flash through my mind. I know the science. I know an occasional screen at a restaurant is totally fine. I know it’s an hour after bedtime, chaos reigns, and I might lose my mind if things do not quickly improve.

And yet, there’s a seed of doubt. What message will it send to my kids to hand them the device? Will they miss out on a valuable opportunity to practice managing their emotions and socializing with family? Am I taking the easy way out as a parent? Will others judge me? What would my parents have done?

I hesitate for a moment.

A chicken finger flies past my face.

I put an arm around each child and whisper, Do you guys want to watch Mickey Mouse Clubhouse?²

They do.³

We are sapiens, hear us (virtually) roar

Last week—a few hours before Restaurant-pocolypse, actually—I glanced at my phone to find a new number parading across the Techno Sapiens dashboard: 50,000 readers.⁴

I know these types of metrics, which the Internet is so fond of waving around, mean nothing. A silly number on a screen and now—look at that!—it’s nice and round!

But to me, once I push aside the disbelief (and slight terror), this number means a lot.

It means that I get to wake up everyday and do something I love, and that other people seem to value it, too.

It means that so many of us are facing hundreds of parenting decisions everyday, from the smallest, like whether to turn on Mickey Mouse Clubhouse at a restaurant, to the biggest, like how to live well in a world filled with tech.

It means we’re muddling our way through the research and the real-life, trying to make parenting in the digital age just a little bit easier. And it means there’s a whole lot of other people alongside us doing the same.

Who are you, again?

It occurred to me recently that, as our numbers grow, some of you might kindly show up here every week, politely listen to me ramble on about chicken fingers and iPhones, and then leave wondering who, exactly, the weird Internet person writing these posts might be.

So, while we’re celebrating this milestone, I thought it would be a good time to quickly re-introduce myself (the weird Internet person) and Techno Sapiens (the thing I write).

Hi again! I’m Jacqueline (Jackie) Nesi. I’m a clinical psychologist and professor at Brown, and a parent of two (and a half) young kids.

Bathroom selfie before a recent work event (featuring the half-kid). Oh, you don’t also keep a toy firetruck in your shower?

I’m a researcher who studies how technology use affects kids’ mental health, and what parents can do to help. I’ve dedicated my career to these issues: leading federally-funded studies, publishing dozens of academic papers, being featured in outlets like The New York Times and The Wall Street Journal, and even testifying before congress.

And yet, when you’re crouched underneath a restaurant table, the cool slick of buttered noodles pressing into your knees, your children screaming above you, it turns out the science is only half of the story.

So what, exactly, are we doing here?

Almost four years ago, I became a parent. In the postpartum haze of diaper changes, sleepless nights, and late-night Google searches, I spent a lot of time reading about parenting. Books, Instagram posts, research studies, hospital-issued pamphlets—I read it all, and yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing.

My social media feeds were flooded with superficial parenting advice, the research was hidden away in academic journals, and I—like every parent—was increasingly trying to make sense of how to live and raise kids in a world filled with tech.

So I started Techno Sapiens.

Since then, I’ve grown as a parent, and Techno Sapiens has grown along with me. I’ve tried to build it into that something I felt was missing. To create a space that is science-backed but human. Rigorous but realistic. To make the research accessible, useful, and—dare I say it?—fun.

I’ve loved every second of it, and I have all of you to thank for that.

Where we’re going next

Over the past few years, Techno Sapiens has become a bigger part of my life than I ever imagined, and I just feel incredibly lucky to be part of this weird and wonderful corner of the Internet.

I still cannot believe that I get to sit down at my laptop everyday and write about, say, my children’s love for Celtic folk music, or the latest research on how to change topics during a conversation, and people read it! And when I get to hear from all of you, in emails and comments and chats, about your children’s music choices, or with your questions about kids and tech? It’s the absolute best.

I love Techno Sapiens, and I want to continue making it the best it can possibly be. Writing and managing a newsletter of this size takes time—specifically, lots of early mornings, late nights, and children’s nap times—and I want to keep investing in it.

To do that, I’m asking for your help.

Please consider supporting Techno Sapiens with a paid subscription.

As you’ve probably gathered, I care a lot about our mission here at Techno Sapiens: to create a space for parents (and non-parents!) that’s evidence-based and judgement-free, and to make science a little more human.

If you value that work, too, I hope you’ll consider upgrading.⁵

Do your children also eat spaghetti with a spoon? And does it also turn the spoon into a catapult and the spaghetti into a projectile?

The details

• To celebrate our community growing to 50,000 readers, yearly paid subscriptions are 50% off THIS WEEK ONLY! In the 3.5 years Techno Sapiens has been around, we’ve only done a big sale like this once before, so now’s the time to take advantage.

• This discount lasts forever, so upgrade now to lock in that rate ($49.50 per year) for as long as you want to keep reading Techno Sapiens.

• A paid subscription gets you access to all posts, including Q&As, research roundups, and special bonus features. You also get access to the full archive, where you’ll find answers to tons of questions about parenting and tech, and you’ll get discounts on my tech parenting courses.

• NEW: Paid subscribers will also be able to join special subscriber-only chats, where you can ask questions and get real-time answers from me and other members of the community.

If you upgrade now, you’ll get all of that for less than a dollar a week, and the knowledge that you’re supporting work that you value. Plus, for every new paid subscription this week, my children have agreed to eat, rather than throw, one buttered spaghetti noodle.⁶ What a steal!

Thank you for everything, techno sapiens. I cannot wait to see what’s next.

1. I know I’ve mentioned this before, but why does my toddler love chicken and steak so much? I think he’s doing a better job of hitting his protein goals than I am. I don’t know whether to be concerned or impressed.

2. You may remember that a few months ago, Mickey Mouse Clubhouse conveniently broke in our house when I became convinced that the high-pitched Mickey Mouse voice would slowly destroy me from the inside out. So…big guns, indeed.

3. For those wondering, Mickey Mouse lasted for about 20 minutes before things took a turn. The evening ended with a scene out a heist movie—me barreling out of a parking garage, two screaming children in the backseat, and my husband and I panicking on the phone with each other, speaking in code: I NEED THE CREDIT CARD. IS “MY FIRST 100 TRUCKS” IN THE BACKPACK? WE’VE LOST FOO-FOO. I REPEAT, FOO-FOO IS GONE.

(“Foo-foo” is my toddler’s stuffed dog. I think it’s a derivative of “woof woof” but not sure.)

4. Sadly, I did miss the exact moment the Substack dashboard changed from 49,999 to 50,000. If you, too, are a person who has spent long minutes staring at your car’s odometer, waiting for the mileage to hit a round number (100,000 was particularly exhilarating for me), you know this feeling. I also hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you might be as nerdy as I am.

5. As always, if a paid subscription is not financially feasible for you at the moment but you’d still like to access bonus content, email me (technosapiens.substack@gmail.com) for a comp subscription.

6. They have not agreed to this.