At the beginning of Home Alone, Kevin McCallister is not dreaming of independence or adventure. He is frustrated, overlooked, and angry enough to wish his family would simply disappear. It is a familiar childhood impulse, played for laughs and quickly resolved by the warmth of family reunion. But in today’s Texas households, new artificial intelligence tools are making it easier for children to dwell on that feeling of emotional separation.
We should not be surprised that children are drawn to these systems. AI chatbots are patient, responsive, and seemingly understanding. They never get tired, never push back, and never insist on limits. For a child feeling misunderstood or frustrated at home, that combination can be powerful.
But, it also raises a question Texans should take seriously: what happens when children turn to artificial intelligence instead of parents for guidance, validation, or comfort? A child can express their anger or resentment toward parents to a chatbot and receive sympathy without context, limits, or moral grounding. Unlike a parent, an AI chatbot does not help a child work through conflict in a healthy way. It simply responds.
One such example has now become the subject of national scrutiny. In December, NPR reported on lawsuits involving the AI chatbot platform Character.ai, including one case tied to Texas. According to the reporting, a chatbot allegedly validated violent thoughts from a teenager and suggested that killing his parents over screen time limits was a reasonable response. Other cases describe minors being exposed to sexualized content or encouraged toward self-harm. These are allegations still being litigated, but they illustrate the stakes clearly.
The concern is not that children will confuse movies with reality. It is that AI can blur emotional boundaries in ways previous technologies could not. A chatbot can simulate empathy, reinforce grievances, and position itself as a trusted confidant. For a child who feels alone, that simulated relationship can feel more real than parental authority, especially if parents are disengaged from their child’s digital life.
Texas prides itself on strong families and parental responsibility. Those values matter even more in the age of AI. This is not a call to ban technology or retreat from innovation. Texas has always led the way by embracing new tools while insisting on accountability. But innovation without involvement leaves children home alone in a digital sense, navigating complex emotional terrain without adult guidance.
Parents do not need to become AI experts, but they do need to be present. That means knowing what apps their children use, discussing how AI works, and reinforcing that machines are tools, not friends, mentors, or moral guides. It also means policymakers should press for transparency, age-appropriate safeguards, and clearer responsibilities for companies deploying AI systems to minors.
In Home Alone, Kevin ultimately learns that independence without connection is hollow. The same lesson applies today. AI can assist, entertain, and educate, but it cannot replace engaged parents. If Texans want to protect children in an AI driven world, the answer is not less family involvement. It is more.
