It's been a week of rough rides in the minivan. Midwest potholes being what they are, I wish I had a Lunar Roving Vehicle in my garage. Our roads resemble pictures of craters on Mars, or worse, the new federal budget - big, dark and dangerous.

I don't take my responsibilities in the driver's seat lightly, so I've learned to avoid the unforgiving cavities that have formed beneath the snow all winter, awaiting my aluminum wheels. The potholes I can't avoid - the ones causing all the rocky rides in my van these days - are the parenting variety.

Being the mother of three teenagers, you might assume that I'm up to my steering wheel in teen angst, anger and rebellion, but I'm not.

No, the one at the heart of all the consternation (hers, not mine) is the 11-year-old - my "tween" - and the issue that has us haggling back and forth in a familiar dance of pleading and denial: cell phones.

Though my husband and I have maxed out our cell phone family plan at five, we're adamantly opposed to putting a cell phone into the hands of our sixth-grader. We much prefer she hold things that have more value - like, say, a book or a dog leash or a package of magic markers. Or, heaven forbid, a toilet brush.

The point is, we don't think our daughter's young life is lacking for want of a cell phone. In fact, we think her life is better without one.

To her credit, most of the time Amy is content to wait out her middle school years sans cell - just as her siblings did - until high school, the time we have deemed appropriate to arm our children with what we consider an electronic tether.

Unfortunately, because of the growing number of parents buying into the cell phone safety myth, Amy is among a shrinking minority. Continued...