If you're anything like the average family, screen time at home has gone up and the number of apps on your child's phone has gone up with it. Most parents can name two or three of them. Very few could say what any of them actually do.
Naming individual apps in an article is a losing game — the popular one changes faster than anything you can publish. What doesn't change is the category, and the setting that matters most within it. That's what this guide covers.
The five categories, and the setting that matters in each
1. Messaging. Anything that carries private conversation, one-to-one or in groups.
The setting that matters: who can add your child to a group, and who can message them without an existing connection. Both are usually buried under Privacy. Set incoming messages to contacts-only. Group chats are also where most cyberbullying we see actually happens — see how to spot it.
2. Short video. Endless scrolling feeds of clips, with an algorithm choosing what comes next.
The setting that matters: account visibility, and whether strangers can comment or duet. These apps are the most effective attention machines ever built, and the comment layer under a child's own video is where things go wrong. Private account by default; comments limited to friends.
3. Photo and story sharing. Posts that may or may not expire.
The setting that matters: location tagging, off. Everything else follows from what a post gives away. "Disappearing" content is a design choice, not a guarantee — anything on a screen can be captured.
4. Games with social layers. The game is the surface; the chat is the substance.
The setting that matters: voice chat restricted to friends, and friend requests from strangers off. A public game lobby is the single most common place an adult stranger gets unsupervised access to a child's voice.
5. Anonymous or "ask me anything" apps. Apps whose central feature is that the sender is unidentified.
The setting that matters: none of them. This is the one category where the honest advice is not this one. Removing accountability from a message reliably produces the worst version of everyone, and these apps show up over and over in bullying cases with no compensating benefit.
The five-minute audit
Once a month, sit down with your child — together, not behind their back — and do this:
- Open the app list. Not the home screen; the full list in Settings. Kids' home screens are curated.
- Ask what each unfamiliar one does. Not accusingly. Genuine curiosity gets you far more information, and they usually enjoy explaining.
- Check the app store rating and the actual age of the account. Many apps are rated 13+ and are trivially signed up for at nine.
- Review permissions. Location, camera, microphone, contacts. Most apps ask for far more than they need. Turn off anything that isn't obviously required.
- Delete two things. Old accounts nobody uses are pure liability — they hold data, they can be compromised, and nobody is monitoring them.
The Privacy and Security Check-Up is the longer, twenty-minute version of the same job, covering passwords and two-factor authentication as well.
Two questions better than any block list
"Show me the thing you like about it." Ask a child to demonstrate an app and you will learn more in three minutes than a week of monitoring software would tell you. You also become a person who is interested rather than a person who inspects.
"What would you do if someone in there made you uncomfortable?" If the answer is vague, that's the gap to work on — and it's a far better use of the conversation than an argument about installing something.
Where the line actually is
Blocking apps has a role, particularly for younger children. But an app block is a fence, and fences work until the child is at a friend's house, or on a school device, or old enough to find the way around one — which happens earlier than most parents assume.
The habit is what travels: knowing what a post gives away, knowing that friends are people you have met, knowing that anyone who tries to move a conversation to a different app is a signal to stop and tell someone. That's what a Project B3 session teaches, and The Parent's Playbook covers the home version of it.