The house is finally quiet tonight. I was just looking in on the kids, and watching them sleep, I kept thinking about what happened earlier today. Our little one pointed at the smart speaker and asked, “How does it know what I’m saying?” and for a moment, I froze. My mind was racing with words like ‘algorithms’ and ‘machine learning.’ I was trying to figure out how to explain AI to a six-year-old. Then I saw you kneel down, look them right in the eye, and just… talk. You didn’t explain the technology. You turned that little question into our next family game. And watching you, I realized something. It’s not about keeping up with technology; it’s about the warmth and wisdom you bring to it.
You Turn a Question from a Task into an Adventure
You know how it is lately. Every time parents get together, the conversation turns to coding classes or AI tutors. I’ll admit, I feel that pressure sometimes, that little worry about our kids falling behind. When that question came up today, my first instinct was to treat it like a subject to be taught, a box to be checked.
But you were different. You just smiled and said, “Well, it’s like a little robot detective that’s really good at remembering things. We can teach it what we like, kind of like how we taught our robot vacuum to stay away from the LEGOs.” Then you both started asking it silly questions, just to hear the funny answers, and the room filled with laughter.
That’s when it hit me. You weren’t teaching a lesson on technology. You were giving a gift: the joy of finding things out together. You weren’t trying to cram the world’s knowledge into a little head; you were protecting the curiosity that fuels it. Instead of just giving an answer, you made the question the start of an adventure.
Teaching the Grace of Getting It Wrong
We grew up in a world that rewarded the right answer, delivered quickly. So when our child asked the AI art app to draw a cat and it produced some weird, rocket-shaped creature, my first thought was, ‘That’s not right. It failed.’
But you? You just threw your head back and laughed. You pulled our little one into a hug and said, “Wow, the computer thinks a cat looks like a spaceship! That’s hilarious! What should we tell it differently next time to help it learn?”
You’re making our home a safe harbor where it’s okay to try and fail, and try again.
I was so struck by that. You have this amazing ability to frame mistakes not as failures, but as part of the fun. It’s a masterclass in how to use AI responsibly with kids. Because of you, they’re growing into someone who isn’t afraid to experiment.
Building a Compass, Not Just a Map
Watching you today, I thought a lot about what we really want to pass down. It isn’t expertise in the latest tech. It’s an attitude, a way of moving through the world with wisdom. When you see our child about to mindlessly click on a recommended video, you don’t just say no. You gently ask, “Why do you think it suggested that one for you? Is that what you really feel like watching?”
That small question is everything. You’re showing them that technology is a tool, a helpful one, but it isn’t the boss. If students only learn how to prompt, not how to question, then they are not learning — they are submitting.
You are teaching our child to be the one who asks the questions, to stay in charge of their own mind and their own choices. And we’ll be walking right there with them strong and sure.