“I want a different one.” How many of us mirror my toddler grandchild, whose digital experiences have created expectations of instant changeability in real life?
Our kiddo expects every experience to have an instant alternative, as though we could suddenly change the channel on reality and offer unlimited choices.
“‘I don’t like this birthday party… this waffle… this game,’ he says, treating each real-world experience as if it offered the same easy switching as his digital entertainment.
Helping the toddler understand that the adults in his life can’t provide unlimited choices is good. Still, it underscores how we are all struggling more with our expectations around instant gratification and unlimited choice.
Living in a world where news has become subjective and radically different “facts” about anything are just a click away means that I have to work harder to ensure that I maintain a consistent, objective reality. Yes, our phones can instantly show us alternate routes through traffic, countless restaurant options, and unlimited entertainment possibilities.
But no, they can’t manage human relationships, resolve conflicts, or solve nuanced real-world problems. Perhaps most critically, they can’t provide alternate versions of truth, though sometimes we wish they could.
When my grandson wants “a different birthday party,” he’s expressing a desire for change. But when adults seek different versions of reality – alternative facts, competing narratives, customized truths – we’re participating in something far more complex and corrosive.
The same devices that offer us convenient alternatives for dinner plans now also present us with competing versions of history, science, and current events. The line between helpful choices and harmful options has become as blurry as our definitions of reality.
My grandson is growing up in a world where digital alternatives are seamlessly woven into daily life. And yet, watching him build with blocks, jump off the playground slide, and explore the world around him, I see something essential: when fully engaged in these moments, he isn’t seeking alternatives. He’s 100% present, learning, and growing through our human capacity for stubborn, patient persistence. Perhaps this is the delicate balance I’d like to see all of us be able to maintain–benefiting from technology’s ever-expanding scope while protecting our own abilities to work with what’s real and immediate.
“I want a different one.” How many of us mirror my toddler grandchild, whose digital experiences have created expectations of instant changeability in real life?
Our kiddo expects every experience to have an instant alternative, as though we could suddenly change the channel on reality and offer unlimited choices.
“‘I don’t like this birthday party… this waffle… this game,’ he says, treating each real-world experience as if it offered the same easy switching as his digital entertainment.
Helping the toddler understand that the adults in his life can’t provide unlimited choices is good. Still, it underscores how we are all struggling more with our expectations around instant gratification and unlimited choice.
Living in a world where news has become subjective and radically different “facts” about anything are just a click away means that I have to work harder to ensure that I maintain a consistent, objective reality. Yes, our phones can instantly show us alternate routes through traffic, countless restaurant options, and unlimited entertainment possibilities.
But no, they can’t manage human relationships, resolve conflicts, or solve nuanced real-world problems. Perhaps most critically, they can’t provide alternate versions of truth, though sometimes we wish they could.
When my grandson wants “a different birthday party,” he’s expressing a desire for change. But when adults seek different versions of reality – alternative facts, competing narratives, customized truths – we’re participating in something far more complex and corrosive.
The same devices that offer us convenient alternatives for dinner plans now also present us with competing versions of history, science, and current events. The line between helpful choices and harmful options has become as blurry as our definitions of reality.
My grandson is growing up in a world where digital alternatives are seamlessly woven into daily life. And yet, watching him build with blocks, jump off the playground slide, and explore the world around him, I see something essential: when fully engaged in these moments, he isn’t seeking alternatives. He’s 100% present, learning, and growing through our human capacity for stubborn, patient persistence. Perhaps this is the delicate balance I’d like to see all of us be able to maintain–benefiting from technology’s ever-expanding scope while protecting our own abilities to work with what’s real and immediate.