You Can’t Protect Your Kids Online From The Sidelines
I'll be honest, as a parent, online gaming used to make me nervous. Not because I thought it was bad. But because I didn't understand it. And when you don't understand something your kids are doing often, it's easy to default to fear.
For a while, I handled it the way a lot of parents do. I set time limits. I checked the settings. I asked, "What are you playing?" from across the room.
But then one day I sat down next to my kids and actually logged in.
And everything changed.
What I saw wasn't just "gaming." I saw them building things. Solving problems. Teaching each other. Getting excited about creating something from scratch. I saw creativity and collaboration. I saw them light up when something worked.
It wasn't just screen time. It was skill-building.
That doesn't mean there aren't risks. Of course there are. The internet isn't a bubble-wrapped space. But I realized something important: I can't protect my kids in a space I refuse to step into.
You wouldn't drop your child off at a new park without looking around first. You wouldn't send them to a sleepover without knowing the family. So why would we treat online spaces any differently?
I can't protect my kids in a space I refuse to step into.
The turning point for me was deciding to educate myself instead of avoiding it. With Roblox in particular, I created my own account. I explored. I clicked around. I learned how the platform worked, how communication happens, how in-game currency works, what reporting tools exist.
It felt awkward at first. I was definitely outside my comfort zone. But it also gave me confidence. The unknown started to become known.
When my kids were ready, we signed up together. We talked about usernames and why they matter. We set expectations about spending and who they could talk to. We didn't do it as one big, dramatic "online safety talk." We just wove it into everyday life.
Because that's what safety is: ongoing.
We don't give our kids one lecture about crossing the street and call it done. We remind them. We model it. We talk about it casually.
Online safety should be the same.
Some of our best conversations happen mid-game. Something small will come up—a chat request, a new feature, a question—and we'll pause and talk about it. Not in a scary way. Just matter-of-fact.
"Would you accept that from someone you don't know in real life?" "What would you do if that felt weird?" "Who would you tell?"
When safety conversations feel normal, they stick.
When safety conversations feel normal, they stick.
And here's something I've learned that surprised me: when parents show up, kids relax.
They're more likely to tell you when something feels off. They're more likely to respect boundaries they helped create. They're less defensive because you're not policing from the outside; you're participating from the inside.
Online gaming shouldn't be a babysitter. It shouldn't be something we fear, either. It can be a place to bond. To create. To learn alongside our kids.
But we have to be willing to step in.
If I could share one thing with parents who feel unsure about online gaming, it would be this: slow down. Be intentional. Every child is different. Readiness matters more than what "everyone else" is doing.
And don't let fear make the decisions for you.
Log in. Sit down next to them. Ask questions. Play. Learn.
Because you can't protect your kids online if you're not there with them.