Picture day. The phrase sent a chill through me. Despite marking the date on our family calendar and even mulling button-up shirt options for our son, my husband and I had both forgotten about it by the time it arrived. If only I had been in one of those group text chats with all the first-grade parents, surely someone would have reminded me.

But no thanks. The only thing worse than failing to remember your child’s picture day is enduring the steady pinging of incoming texts from fellow parents. It’s like a digital form of water torture.

Now, look, I used to love group chats. But somewhere along the way during parenthood, they went from comforting (comparing middle-of-the-night nursing thoughts) to annoying (fielding threads a dozen texts long from people I didn’t know). And in my effort to live life with less screen time, I’ve ruthlessly limited notifications. (I do, by choice, remain part of some scrolls, and to any pals reading this, please know that I appreciate your acceptance of my occasional sabbaticals.)

I was first introduced to the all-class group chat when my son entered pre-K. It was helpful in some ways (“Field trip tomorrow!”), but just as often, it became a confusing jumble of information. “Cynthia will be there! With bells on!” “Does anyone know how to find the calendar?”

I know I’m not the only one who feels this way. Some friends simply ignore parent group texts, which keep rolling in like movie credits and have about as much useful information. Others opt out from day one, stealthily ignoring any request from well-meaning organizers (which, honestly, bless your hearts). One mom friend showed me a thread filled with dozens of parents chiming in about new water fountain rules and specs on children’s water bottles. I’m here for hydration, but do we really need a daylong chat on first graders’ water equipment and etiquette?

But back to picture day. Had I been on an all-class group chat, or even on WhatsApp (where these ubiquitous parent chats seem to live), I’m certain I would have received multiple nudges the night before. Alas, my son went to school wearing what he chose himself and without a proper haircut.

As for his portrait? He’s wearing his favorite Cubs shirt, naturally, and his hair is too shaggy. But you know what? It was fine. When he saw it, he gave a huge smile. And, OK, sure, I wound up texting the picture to a select few people.