The Stillness Our Children Crave

Have you ever watched a child just sit with no screen, toys, or plans?
Probably have not seen one lately either. Because in today’s world, those moments are rare. Almost suspicious. A quiet child? Must be sick. Or something’s really wrong. Silence feels like slacking or mischief, and stillness, well, stillness feels like you’re falling behind.

Some parents, especially mothers who often spend the most time with kids, say they feel like they’re running a race they didn’t exactly sign up for. 

Between checking CBC weird homeworks, shopping for snacks their kids like (and groceries they couldn’t care less), enforcing reduced screen time (which they somehow always find clever ways around), birthdays, and trying to raise “well-rounded humans” so society will nod in approval. It’s hard to find even a minute to breathe.

And our kids? They’re not just following our pace. They’re absorbing it.

This Week, I Stumbled On a Philosopher, Byung-Chul Han. He argues that modern suffering doesn’t come from lack, but from too much. “Excess of positivity,” he calls it. Too many choices, too much stimulation, too much pressure to be our best selves.

“The exploiter is simultaneously the exploited. Master and slave are now the same person.”

We no longer need anyone to crack the whip. We do it to ourselves. And while this shows up clearly in our careers and social lives, it quietly seeps into how we parent.

We rush our mornings. We cram our weekends. We schedule childhood like a quarterly productivity report.

More tutoring to boost scores. Getting them extracurriculars like football. Who wouldn’t want a Lamine Yamal son (dads)? Piano, because we regret never learning it ourselves. I regret it too. Coding, because the robots are coming, right?

And when the day finally ends, there’s just enough time for a few cartoons. Or for them to steal your phone and play games before you start giving them an earful about if they sleep later than 7 pm, they’ll wake up groggy.

The Truth is, Children Weren’t Designed For This

Children crave stillness. Not because they’re lazy, but because stillness is sacred. It’s in the quiet, unhurried moments that they begin to know themselves.

The long stare out the window. The slow walk under trees. The lazy Sunday afternoon that stretches without demand. And no, I don’t mean taking them to the mall for bouncing castles and water rides.

Many children today don’t get that kind of stillness. 

We parent the way we live. Fast, efficient, restless. Life starts to feel like a processing factory with rigid stages and milestones, and no room for the greys. No space to linger. No time to breathe.

“To Breathe the Scent of Time.” 

You know, religion, for centuries, has quietly protected this feeling. Weekly rituals, communal meals, sacred pauses.

It created time not to manage, but to dwell in. Whether or not you’re religious, that rhythm, the slowness, is something many of us, without realizing it, are starving for. Today’s society, which appreciates religion less, is missing out on this. 

Stillness Is The Art of Presence

A deep breath between chapters. A choice to savor. And it’s something we can offer our children, even as we re-learn it ourselves.

Because kids show signs when they’re craving stillness: 

• They’re overstimulated, yet bored.
• They bounce between games, apps, and YouTube, but can’t sit still.
• They struggle to sleep or seem moody for “no reason.”
• They struggle with quiet or “solo” play.
• They say, “I don’t know what to do,” even with 53 toys on the floor.

They’re not broken. They’re just overloaded.

So what can we do?

• Leave space in the day that isn’t scheduled.
• Take slow walks. No devices, no rush.
• Watch the sky. Count ants. Lie on the grass.
• Model “doing nothing” with joy.
• Teach them that boredom isn’t a failure.

Your take should be this: Parenting is also presence.

So maybe this weekend, don’t add another activity. Or let the kids be constantly overstimulated. Find a way to pause together. To let time breathe. And watch your child(ren) breathe with it.

Because beneath the noise, what they may be craving isn’t more.