The "Judging Their Friends Like You’re Casting a Sitcom" Trap

Tween friendships are not a casting call — yet many parents treat them like pilots for a new Netflix series. They audition every new face, decide if they’re “main character”, "hero" or “villain,” and offer unsolicited commentary. The problem? Our tween's riendships aren’t our show to run.

Mistake: Making snap judgments about their friends and announcing them.

Reality check: You don’t have to love all their friends — but you do have to let them choose them.

Tweens are just beginning to script their own social lives. But too often, parents storm the writer’s room, pencil in stereotypes, and give casting notes on every new friend. Let's explore why we judge so quickly, how it backfires, and what to do instead — without becoming the parental version od a meddling network executive who gets the show canceled.

THE ISSUE

Picture it: Your 12-year-old bursts through the door with a new friend. They’re giggling about an inside joke you don’t understand, dropping slang that makes you feel like you need subtitles, and raiding the pantry like it’s an open buffet. Within minutes, your brain is doing a full casting breakdown:

• “That one’s the troublemaker.”

• “She seems dramatic.”

• “He’s nice, but probably not academic material.”

• “Is that a nose ring? At 12?”

Suddenly, you’re less a parent and more a casting director for Tween Sitcom: The Series. You make comments, little “observations,” or pointed jokes — forgetting that every critique of their friend lands like a critique of your child.

WHY PARENTS DO THIS

Let’s be honest: judging their friends feels natural. We’re protective. We know peers shape choices. And if you survived middle school, you carry scars from your own “bad friend” era.

So we evaluate and judge our kids' friends because of:

• Projection of our own past.  We remember the kid who pressured us into shoplifting a pack of gum. Or the one who ditched us for the “cool group.” So when our child brings home someone who vaguely resembles that kid — boom, we’re on high alert.

• Fear of bad influence. One eye-roll, one questionable lyric sung too loudly in the living room, and suddenly you’ve fast-forwarded to your child getting a tattoo that says “YOLO” across their forehead.

• Control impulse. We can manage curfews, chores, even what they eat. But friends? Wild cards. Judging them feels like grabbing some semblance of control in a world where tweens are constantly wriggling out of our grasp.

• Status anxiety. We secretly (or not so secretly) care what other people say about us. The loud, messy kid in your kitchen? Suddenly you’re wondering if the neighbors will assume your home is “that house where the suspicious individuals frequent.”

• Categorizing habit. Adults love labels. “The smart one, the sporty one, the drama magnet.”It’s comforting — like sorting laundry. But people aren’t socks.

You don't believe it. Just wait one day and listen to the conversations of the mums waiting at a school pickup, and you might overhear something like this:

• “Oh, that boy? He’s definitely the class clown. Cute now, but watch out.”

• “Her friend always looks so serious. She’ll be the bad influence.”

The truth? We’re casting characters in our heads — but our tweens friends aren’t auditioning for us. They’re auditioning for each other.

HOW THIS HARMS CHILDREN (AND US)

Our commentary doesn’t just shape how our kids see their friends — it shapes how they see us. And, most importantly:

• It undermines autonomy. Friendship is one of the first real areas where tweens choose for themselves. Constant judgment sends the message: “I don’t trust your decisions.”

• It breeds secrecy. If they sense you don’t approve, they may simply stop telling you who they’re with. Congratulations — now you know less about their social life, not more.

• It discourages openness. Instead of sharing funny stories or asking for advice about conflicts, they clam up, fearing criticism.

• It hurts them indirectly. If you mock a friend for being “awkward,” and your child secretly shares those traits, they feel insulted too.

• It strains your relationship. If they think you “never like anyone I hang out with,” they may stop inviting friends over — and slowly stop inviting you into their world.

• It can backfire spectacularly. Disapproval makes the friend more appealing. Tween brains love rebellion, and nothing makes a friendship sparkle more than “my parents don’t like      them.” Forbidden fruit = irresistible.

CHANGES: THEN VS. NOW

Then (1980s/90s):

• Friends = whoever lived on your block or sat near you in class.

• Parents maybe learned their names eventually.

• Judgments were muttered in private (“He’s a bit wild, but oh well”).

Now (2020s):

• Friends = found at school, online, through gaming, sports, TikTok… entire ecosystems.

• Parents meet them sooner, thanks to constant texting, FaceTiming, and carpooling.

• Social media lets us stalk them. (Don’t lie — you’ve checked their Instagram.)

• More visibility = more opportunities for critique.

Back then, parents had plausible deniability. Now, we have too much information — and we can’t resist commenting.