As I settle onto the couch, my 11-year-old son, Ethan, snuggles up beside me, pulling his legs close to his body. He doesn’t say a word, but the worry etched on his face tells me something’s troubling him. “What’s wrong?” I ask, hoping for something minor. (I always hope it’s nothing too serious.)
With a shaky breath, he looks up at me, tears brimming in his eyes. “Everything is changing,” he sighs. “Everyone’s growing up, and I’m just not ready.”
Oh, my sweet boy. I recall having a similar conversation with my older daughter, Mia, when she was his age. Both of my children have savored their childhoods deeply, often expressing sorrow over the swift passage of time, their bodies evolving, friends drifting away from imaginative play, and cherished fantasies fading. As running around gives way to deeper conversations, pretend games shift to makeup giggles, and the world of pirates and princesses is overtaken by worries of adolescence, they grieve for what’s slipping away.
While it pains me to see my children upset, a part of me feels relieved. I’d rather they cling to their childhoods than rush into the adult world. They have plenty of time to grow up—there’s no need to hurry along that journey.
Yet, their hesitation to transition into adulthood starkly contrasts the prevailing cultural narrative, where children are urged by media, peers, and sometimes even parents to grow up far too quickly. The essential elements of childhood—play, imagination, and innocence—are fleeting in a society obsessed with reality TV and relentless academic pressure. Products, games, and media are sold to tweens with the aim of transforming them into miniature adult consumers. It’s alarming to see children as young as seven being taken to see inappropriate films like Deadpool, either without regard for the R-rating or with the misguided belief that they can “handle” the intense content.
Beyond the influence of adult media, I find it concerning how rarely I see school-aged children playing in parks or nature reserves during their free time. More often than not, the only people we encounter in those spaces are parents with toddlers. Where are the older kids?
We live in an era saturated with scheduled activities and competition. While organized sports can offer numerous benefits, they often monopolize a child’s after-school time. When we combine heavy homework loads, the allure of screens, and parental fears about outdoor safety—whether from strangers or overzealous neighbors—we create an environment where children miss out on the invaluable educational and emotional benefits of unstructured, imaginative play.
I want to clarify that I don’t believe children should be without responsibilities. I support chores, community involvement, and reasonable expectations, as these aspects are vital for developing maturity. However, it’s the over-scheduling and the exposure to mature themes that I believe children should be shielded from—sacrificing recess for test preparation, the introduction of inappropriate clothing for tweens, and social media’s pressure cooker of ranking and cyberbullying.
Navigating parenthood in the age of constant media is challenging. Marketers are savvy, and unless we actively work to limit our kids’ exposure to advertising and pop culture, they may internalize the notion that childhood ends too soon. That’s something I refuse to accept.
While we can’t protect our children from every influence, we can strive to safeguard their childhoods. This may seem contradictory, but I believe that allowing kids the time and space to be children enables them to mature more naturally when the time comes. Just as a butterfly remains in its chrysalis until it’s fully developed, a well-lived childhood fosters a healthy adulthood. I see this in my older daughter, Mia, who has changed and matured remarkably since she expressed her fears of growing up. Now, at 15, she often reflects on her joy at having experienced a full childhood, cherishing her innocent moments while she could. That feels right to her—and to me.
Wrapping my arm around Ethan, I gently wipe away his tears. “You will grow up,” I reassure him. “Everyone does. But there’s no rush to leave your childhood behind just yet. You’ll naturally move on from what you enjoy now, but take your time. Enjoy being a kid while you can.”
He smiles through his tears, gives me a tight hug, and then bounds off to play.
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