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The American Academy of Pediatrics (AAP) recommends no screen time for children younger than two.

When my son was born, that recommendation felt intuitive. I didn’t need the AAP to reaffirm my understanding of the world. We are on a planet in a vast universe that’s part of a large, nonfinite cosmos…and the last thing I want to do on this planet is give my curious 27-month-old son devices that may prevent him from discovering the real world around him.

Handing him a tablet when he’s fussy or when I’m busy has never felt right to me. I’m not even interested in any educational show that will teach him colors and numbers just because other children know them by heart. I’m not rushing him. I’m slowing down, taking my time, and giving him the space to develop at his own pace.

What feels right to me, though, is this present moment—right here, right now, without digital distractions. I choose the word “mindful” over “mindful screen time” and instead of creating “screen-free” curfews and zones, I’m creating for him a whole screen-free childhood.

I’m not saying that children who watch screens are not considered mindful. And if you’re a parent who sometimes uses screens to get a moment of peace or to teach him something new, please know that I’m not judging you. If there’s one thing I’ve learned as a parent, it is that every family should be allowed to do things their own way. What works for me may not work for others because every child is unique, with different skills, circumstances, and needs.

Having said that, I’m sharing what has worked for me, and I believe that all children can benefit from mindfulness training. As a practicing Buddhist, I know I have to lead by example. I’m teaching my son mindfulness by being mindful of my own words, actions, and reactions. I’m teaching him presence by being present, compassion by being compassionate, and patience by being patient.

I know that mindfulness (and everything else, really) starts with and within me. I can’t expect him to become someone I’m not. He observes me day in, day out and imitates all my actions, emotional responses, and skills. That’s how children learn—through observational learning. So if we want to raise mindful children, we have to model mindfulness. And if we want to properly model mindfulness, we need to shift our priorities and focus.

You see, we often focus on raising intelligent children, but we rarely focus on raising happy, mindful children. I choose the latter option. I believe that teaching our children mindfulness is a key factor in achieving success in life. What’s the point of getting good grades if a child is unhappy or isn’t equipped with the necessary emotional tools to navigate the ups and downs of adulthood?

That’s why we may need to focus less on how we can distract a child and focus more on how we can make him connect and engage with what’s around him. An enlightened childhood starts with the parent—never the child—and it starts early. So I put my phone away when I’m with and around him. That’s why he’s never been interested in devices because he hasn’t seen me using one obsessively or aimlessly. I want him to see me present.

When we share a meal, we name the food, the colors, the smell, and the texture. We label how we feel about it and rate it on a scale from one to 10. Mindfulness is about focusing on the senses. It’s about doing things slowly, like cutting, scooping, chewing, and sipping water.

When I’m sad or upset, I don’t hide it or cry in the bathroom. I name my emotions and make sure he knows his too when he falls, cries, or gets frustrated. I practice mindfulness in front of him by pausing, choosing my response, and accepting my feelings. When our children face hard times, it’s our opportunity to teach them emotional regulation and acceptance.

We don’t need to clap for our children when they fall, reassure them that they’re resilient, or tell them that “nothing’s wrong.” We don’t need to mask their pain or downplay their present experience. We can teach them mindfulness by helping them express how they feel without our own assumptions and judgements.

When we sit on the bed and do nothing, we do nothing. Mindfulness is not about rushing; it’s about appreciating whatever we are doing in this present moment. I don’t have to constantly overwhelm him with books, toys, or activities. He is free to be himself whenever he wants.

When there’s a moment of silence in the air, I let it be. It’s a moment of respect, appreciation, and contemplation. During moments of silence, I give him the space to focus on surrounding sounds, including the sound of his own little mind. I’m hoping to teach him that silence is okay and we don’t always need to fill it with empty words.

When he’s talking to me or breastfeeding, I maintain eye contact. I want him to know that I’m present, available, and attentive to his needs. Mindfulness means connection, and we can’t develop it without being willing to open up and be in the moment with our child.

Crafting a mindful childhood is possible and necessary. There are endless ways we can make a change in the world, and one of them is to raise children who are kind and empathetic and care about the world. We need children who plant gardens, love animals, and do good deeds. We need good parents…because we need good, mindful children.

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