
Do you often find your kids glued to their screens? Have you noticed they’re withdrawn and less interested in real-life play?
Studies prove the physical and emotional impact of screen time, as researchers note that when children spend a lot of time on screens, especially four or more hours a day, they have higher likelihood of experiencing anxiety, depression, behaviour problems, and even symptoms of ADHD.
Heavy screen use means that kids spend more time stationary, impacting their physical health. They struggle to put their phones down at bedtime, leading to irregular sleep schedules and don’t sleep enough. They have trouble paying attention, and develop language skills slower.
Research also links screen time to poor emotional health and social difficulties, and kids who spend more time on their devices find it harder to manage their emotions and get along with others.
In short, when screens take up too much of a child’s day, it can get in the way of important things like creative play, family bonding, and the natural steps children need to grow emotionally, socially, and cognitively.
One of the most noticeable shifts I’ve observed is in patience and frustration tolerance. Many children today are growing up with games designed to deliver quick rewards—short levels, instant feedback, immediate gratification. When those same children sit down to build with blocks, draw, or even wait their turn in a board game, I often see a lower tolerance for the slow, messy, nonlinear process of real-world play. They’re not used to things that take time, revision, or multiple attempts. And that, I believe, has real implications for resilience.
I also see children absorbing content that isn’t developmentally appropriate, even when the game itself is rated for their age. Multiplayer online games, in particular, expose children to unfiltered communication—strangers using abusive language, slurs, or aggressive put-downs. Even if a child isn’t the target, witnessing that kind of interaction on a regular basis can normalize cruelty or create anxiety. Children don’t always have the emotional vocabulary to process what they’ve heard, but it shows up in their play, their mood, or their behaviour.
And then there’s the social piece. I work with children who are perfectly comfortable communicating through a screen—quick typing, game chat, emoji reactions—but struggle with the give-and-take of face-to-face conversation. Reading facial expressions, waiting for a pause, tolerating silence, repairing a misunderstanding in real time—these are skills that develop through practice, and screens don’t always provide that practice. When most of a child’s social interaction happens online, their in-person social skills don't get exercised as often, and can atrophy.
That doesn't mean screens are bad. But in my experience, when kids have a lot of screen time without much guidance, I tend to see the same patterns: less patience, more sensitivity, and a harder time connecting with people face to face.
If you’re noticed that screen time is replacing time that should be spent sleeping, playing outdoors, or connecting with others, it’s worth exploring screen time limits.
In my experience, what works for one family may not work for another, but these are the guiding principles I have come to trust.
Setting limits that match your child’s age and temperament. Shorter screen time limits are especially important for the under 12s. Your pre-frontal cortex stops developing in your mid-20s, but the years up to age 12 are particularly crucial as children are learning self-control and regulation.
Consider quality over quantity. A 20 minute video on a subject that interests your child, co-watched and discussed is very different from a child passively scrolling through algorithm-driven short-form content.
It’s also about balance – if screen time helps give you, as a tired parent, 15 minutes to breathe, it’s sometimes necessary!
I don't try to pull kids away from screens—I just try to offer something that's engaging, equally fun, but hands-on. When a child feels seen and joined, the screen fades into the background.
Sensory play almost always works. Clay, playdough, even cooking together—making pizza dough or rolling rice balls—gives children a way to regulate through their hands. I often invite them to “make a face that shows how you feel.” You’d be surprised what comes out.
Imaginative play—puppets, tea parties, stuffed animal storytelling—which lets children step into another role and try on new ways of being.
Active games like indoor obstacle courses or scavenger hunts to get the body moving and the brain problem-solving.
Teens are often harder to convince, and it's understandable. So I start differently: I ask what they enjoy, and I follow their lead.
I've seen teens light up with expressive arts. It might be designing a T-shirt, decorating a mirror, or carefully curating a corner of their room with the people and images that matter to them. And when I ask, "Tell me about this one," the story that comes out is often the real gift.
Others connect through social play—board games like Monopoly, LIFE, or UNO can become surprisingly rich opportunities for negotiation, frustration tolerance, and laughter.
I’ve had teens engage deeply through role-play, not in a theatrical way, but in exploring “what if” scenarios—what if I handled that situation differently? What if I could re-enter that dream?
Physical play like pickleball, escape rooms, or even parent-child yoga builds connection without forcing conversation.
And for teens who need calm, origami, puzzles, or mindfulness, offer quiet focus with a sense of accomplishment.
The most important thing I’ve learned? Don’t prescribe. Invite. And when they show you what they enjoy, follow.
Play, to me, isn’t a break from learning. It is learning.
When a child plays Simon Says or freezes mid-dance, they’re not just having fun—they’re strengthening the prefrontal cortex, learning impulse control.
When they build a block tower or knead playdough, they’re integrating sensory input with motor output.
When they step into a pretend play —doctor, monster, superhero—they’re holding a narrative, adapting to surprises, and rehearsing empathy. That’s working memory, cognitive flexibility, and emotional processing all wrapped in one.
It’s essential at every age, from infancy through adulthood. It supports cognitive, emotional, and social development. Play reduces stress, fosters creativity, and improves brain function across the entire lifespan.
For young children, play is literally their first language. They may not have the words to tell us what's wrong or what they need, but they'll show us—through the dollhouse, the sand tray, the animal figures lined up just so. Play lays the foundation for learning. It's how they cultivate creativity, imagination, and social skills long before they can name them.
For adolescents, play shifts shape. It becomes about identity, mastery, and connection on their own terms. It builds resilience and self-esteem at a time when both can feel fragile. In my experience, teens don't stop needing play—they just need it to look different, and they need us to follow their lead.
And for adults? I think play keeps us human. It quiets the noise, wakes up our creativity, and pulls us into the present moment. It reduces stress, strengthens relationships, and supports cognitive health as we age.