Bringing common sense with a grain of salt back to parenting!
For average tweens middle school already has enough humiliation without their parents' Facebook album.
Mistake: Treating your tween’s private life as your public scrapbook.
Consequence: Parents becoming unpaid paparazzi + copywriters, complete with embarrassing hashtags.
Reality Check: Posting without consent chips away at trust — and once it’s online, it never really disappears.
Tweens are already walking through middle school as if the hallway is a live comedy roast. Every zit, voice crack, or mismatched outfit feels like global humiliation. Now imagine that same kid discovering you just uploaded their awkward school photo to your 300 Facebook friends with the caption, “My little man is growing up so fast!” Let's look at how parents became publicists of their children’s lives, why it backfires, and how to celebrate without broadcasting every milestone to the world.
THE ISSUE
It’s Saturday morning. Your 12-year-old is slumped at the kitchen table, hair sticking up in six directions, wearing mismatched pajamas. You think it’s adorable. You snap a photo. Two minutes later, it’s on Instagram with a heart emoji and the caption: “Can’t believe my baby’s almost a teenager! Where did the time go? #blessed #momlife.”
By noon, Aunt Carol has commented: “So handsome, just like his uncle at that age!” His best friend screenshots it. By Monday, someone has turned it into a meme in the group chat: “Future GQ model lol.”
Your intention? Pure love. Your child’s reality? Pure mortification.
For tweens, parental posting isn’t just annoying. It’s exposure. And in the age of permanent digital footprints, what you think is cute can become what they think is social ruin.
WHY PARENTS DO THIS
Things changed dramatically over past twenty years. Before awkward photos lived in physical albums, rarely leaving the house. Worst-case scenario was an older sibling dragging them out at prom night to embarrass you. Exposure was limited to +/- 10 family members laughing at your bowl cut.
For our tweens things are much more serious. Photos are global in seconds. Worst-case scenario means their bath-time photo might be still circulating on Reddit in 2073. Exposure counts in hundreds of people, from Grandma to random acquaintances to that bully kid who always teases in gym class.
Back then, embarrassing moments faded with time. Today, they’re timestamped, geo-tagged, and forever available on Google Images.
Why we still feel like sharing our parental love online? Regardless of knowing all this? We actually do it for different reasons:
Pride on Display. We’re proud. Sharing online feels like putting their gold star on the fridge — but the “fridge” now has a global audience.
Cultural Norm Shift. Our mindset is sometimes still locked in the "good old days" when family albums lived in closets, and we forget that anything we post will live forever on Facebook timelines, Instagram grids, and TikTok reels.
The “Memory Bank” Illusion. We justify it by saying, “I want to remember this forever.” But Instagram isn’t a photo album. It’s a billboard.
Peer Parent Pressure. Everyone else is posting their kid’s milestones. If you don’t, it feels like you’re not celebrating enough.
Blurred Boundaries. Our accounts mix work, social life, and family. Kids get pulled into adult worlds without meaning to.
Ignorance of Consequences. We don’t always realize how searchable, sharable, and permanent these posts are — until a tween calls us out.
HOW THIS HARMS CHILDREN (AND US)
Exaggeration and recklessness in posting photos and comments on social networks has numerous consequences:
Loss of Privacy. They never consented to the posts. Their personal moments become public property.
Loss of Trust. Every “Mom, delete that” ignored chips away at connection.
Increased Anxiety. They’re already self-conscious. Public posting adds an extra stage spotlight.
Teasing Ammo. Classmates weaponize screenshots. What you thought was cute becomes a nickname.
Identity Hijack. Tweens want to curate their own image. Parental posting overrides that control.
Permanent Footprints. Those embarrassing photos don’t disappear. They follow into high school, college, even jobs.
WHY IT’S TEMPTING TO KEEP DOING IT
Because it feels harmless. Because likes feel like validation. Because we want to celebrate. And because our generation sees posting as natural — forgetting that our kids didn’t opt in.
AVOIDING THE TRAP
Let's look at how to stay proud parents without being their PR nightmare.
Ask Before You Post. It sounds radical, but consent matters — even at 11. A simple, “Are you okay with me sharing this?” builds trust..
Share Selectively. Not every moment is for public view. Create private albums for family instead of blasting awkward shots to the internet. (If you wouldn’t want your own middle-school photos online, don’t post theirs.)
Focus on Their Strengths. Want to share? Highlight achievements or moments they’re proud of — not the goofy outtakes they hate.
Model Digital Respect. Show that you treat their image with care. That’s the same respect you want them to show their peers.
Keep Some Things Sacred. Not everything is content. The bedtime story, the silly dance in the kitchen, the meltdown over math homework — those belong to the family, not the feed.
Use Humor Carefully. Your inside jokes may not land the same way publicly. Remember: sarcasm doesn’t always survive a Facebook caption.
Future-Proof Your Posts. Ask yourself: “Will this embarrass them at 16?” If yes, don’t post it at 12.
Build New Traditions. Instead of posting every milestone, create rituals offline: handwritten birthday letters, family scrapbooks, photo boxes. Tangible memories beat hashtags.
THE PAYOFF
When you stop oversharing:
Kids feel respected, not exposed.
Trust deepens. They know you won’t humiliate them online.
Pride shifts from public validation to private connection.
Tweens learn that they have a say in their own story.
Our kids won’t remember the likes our posts got. They’ll remember whether we chose their trust over our timeline. Stopping the oversharing also means that years from now, they won’t resent us for turning their childhood into content. They’ll see us as the ones who protected their dignity in a digital world that overshares everything.
© Kristijan Musek Lešnik, 2025
