Likely Normal

There are some overprotective parents who treat their grown child’s first steps into adulthood like watching a toddler navigate a minefield—if the minefield was a studio apartment and the toddler had a graduate degree. These helicopter parents have upgraded their surveillance tactics with all the latest tech, turning what should be a gentle transition into independence into something resembling a CIA stakeout operation. Your mother doesn’t just call—she conducts full forensic analyses of your social media posts, zooming in on background details like she’s solving crimes. That blurry cup in your Instagram story? Clearly a margarita (it’s sparkling water). The unfamiliar friend tagged in your post? Definitely a drug dealer (they sell vintage records on Etsy). Meanwhile, your father has you on continuous location sharing, watching your little GPS dot move around town like it’s the most suspenseful episode of 24 ever made.

The texts come in with military precision: “Why did you stop at CVS for 17 minutes?” (Allergy medication.) “Who’s Jason and why was he at your place until 1 AM?” (My TV repair guy—the WiFi was out.) The irony is thick enough to spread on toast—you moved out to prove your independence, yet somehow you now file more daily reports than a corporate middle manager. Miss one check-in call and the parental panic escalates to DEFCON 2, complete with emergency calls to your roommate (“Is she breathing?”) and your landlord (“Can you do a wellness check?”).

Yet for all their over-zealousness, you can’t stay mad. Their digital shadowing comes from the same place as those childhood bike helmets and antibacterial wipes—a mix of love and sheer terror at the world’s dangers. So you tolerate the 3 AM “You’re up late?” texts (you were getting water), the weekly grocery interrogations (“Are you eating vegetables or just guacamole?”), and the unshakable sense that somewhere out there, your parents are still mentally swaddling you. After all, one day their constant worrying might actually come in handy, like when you lose your keys and Dad somehow already has a Tile tracker on them.