When we talk in person, we’re reading a million tiny cues: the crinkle of the eyes, the pitch of the voice, the relaxed posture. Research suggests that the vast majority of our communication is non-verbal.

Texting strips all of that away. It’s "naked" language. For a kid whose brain is still figuring out social hierarchies and peer acceptance, that lack of data creates a vacuum. And as any parent of a tween knows, an adolescent brain will fill a data vacuum with pure, unadulterated anxiety 100% of the time.

This is why they use "tone indicators" or excessive emojis. They aren't being "extra"; they’re trying to prevent a social nuclear meltdown.

Learn more about the psychology of adolescent texting

There’s a biological reason your kid thinks your "See you at 5." is aggressive.

The prefrontal cortex—the part of the brain responsible for logic, reasoning, and "maybe Mom is just busy"—is still under construction. Meanwhile, the amygdala—the lizard brain that handles emotions and "FIGHT OR FLIGHT"—is running the show.

When a kid receives a text that feels ambiguous, their amygdala perceives it as a social threat. In the middle school ecosystem, being "left on read" or receiving a "dry" text (one without emojis or "lol") feels like being kicked out of the tribe.

To us, a period is a sign that a sentence has ended. To a kid who grew up on Discord and WhatsApp, a period is "aggressive finality." It’s the digital equivalent of slamming a door. If you want to seem "chill" to your kid, you either use no punctuation at all or you lean into the chaos of the exclamation point.

Different apps have different "tonal rules." If you’re trying to keep up, here’s the landscape:

On Snap, the tone is often set by the "Snap Score" and the "Streak." If a friend sends a "blank" snap (just a photo of a ceiling), the tone is "we are cool, I’m just maintaining our streak." If they stop snapping suddenly, the tone shifts to "I’m ghosting you." It’s exhausting, honestly.

This is the Wild West of tone. Because it’s often used while playing games like Roblox or Fortnite, the tone is fast, reactionary, and filled with slang. This is where you’ll see "Ohio" (meaning weird/cringe) or "Skibidi" (which, let’s be real, is mostly brain rot but can mean anything from "bad" to "cool" depending on the day).

The chat in Roblox is heavily censored (the "tags"), which makes tone even harder to parse. Kids end up communicating in "####" and weird abbreviations, leading to constant "What did you say? Are you mad?" loops.

Check out our guide to Roblox slang for parents

It’s easy to dismiss this as "kids being sensitive," but it’s actually a vital digital literacy skill. We are raising the first generation that will do 90% of their professional and personal networking through a screen. If they don't learn how to navigate "digital body language" now, they’re going to have a very hard time in the 2035 workplace.

Teaching them to "assume positive intent" is a superpower. If a text can be read two ways—one where the person is mad and one where they are just in a rush—teach your kid to choose the "in a rush" version by default.

If you want to help your kid understand the nuance of communication without it feeling like a lecture, try these:

This is the gold standard right now. It perfectly illustrates how "Anxiety" takes the wheel and starts projecting scenarios that aren't there. Watch it together and ask, "Which character is reading your texts right now?"

I know, I know—it’s a few years old, but Among Us is actually a great tool for discussing tone. To win, you have to convince people of your "vibe" through text chat alone. It’s a low-stakes way to show how easily words can be twisted.

This book (and the movie) is a beautiful look at a character (Roz) who has to learn to communicate with creatures that don't speak her "language." It’s a great metaphor for the bridge between "parent-speak" and "kid-speak."

Instead of telling them they’re overreacting, try these "Screenwise approved" conversation starters:

Ask our chatbot for more text-based conflict resolution tips

Your kid isn't "dramatic"—they’re just operating in a communication medium that is fundamentally broken for the human brain. They are trying to decode a complex social world using only 26 letters and a handful of yellow circles.

The next time they snap at you for a "dry" text, take a breath. They aren't being difficult; they’re just looking for the digital equivalent of a hug. Maybe throw in a random sparkle emoji ✨ next time you ask them to empty the dishwasher. It feels stupid to you, but to them, it’s the difference between a request and a reprimand.

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