I’ve got something Mark Zuckerberg probably wants.
My grandson’s attention.
Right now, getting it isn’t that hard. If I’m heading outside, he comes outside. If I’m fixing something, he wants to mimic what I’m doing. If I’m going somewhere, all it takes is a wave of my hand and:
“Come with me.”
Of course, sometimes I have to work for his attention. Sometimes I have to entertain him. Sometimes I have to sit with him and watch half an hour of Miss Rachel.
I’m not pretending I have some screen-free wonder child.
I’m saying that, right now, I have access to something that will become increasingly valuable.
His attention.
And I want to make good use of it while I can.
Why five years?
Five isn’t a scientific cutoff.
It’s my shorthand for those early years before school and the wider world begin claiming larger pieces of his life.
School will want his attention. Friends will want his attention. Sport, hobbies and whatever he’s into will want his attention. And more and more, businesses will want it too.
Games. YouTube. Social media. Streaming platforms. Apps.
We live in an attention economy.
Some of the smartest people in the world work for companies whose business models depend, in one way or another, on getting us to look, click, watch, scroll and come back for more.
One day they’ll be competing for my grandson’s attention too.
I’m not suggesting they’re evil. I’m saying something much simpler.
They don’t have his best interest at heart.
I do.
What a wonderful opportunity.
Before everyone else arrives
There’s something unusual about early childhood.
Young children still want to come along.
Going to the shops isn’t an errand yet. It’s an outing. Digging a hole isn’t work. It’s something Grandad is doing and therefore worth investigating. Making my sandwich can take three times longer because somebody insists on helping. A walk that should take ten minutes takes thirty because apparently every stormwater drain requires inspection.
It’s wildly inefficient. It’s also wonderful. Because for a relatively brief period, being invited into an adult’s ordinary life can be enough.
That won’t last forever.
Nor should it.
His world will get bigger.
He’ll go to school. Make friends. Discover interests that have nothing to do with me. Eventually he’ll have places he’d much rather be and people he’d much rather be with.
That’s growing up. I’m not trying to stop it.
I’m wondering what I can do with the opportunity before it happens.
Early childhood matters
I’ve been looking into this because I wanted to know whether my intuition had anything behind it.
It does.
Early childhood is an important period of development. Children are building foundations for how they regulate themselves, relate to other people, approach challenges, learn and participate in the world.
And those foundations aren’t built only through formal teaching.
They’re built through relationships, play, conversation, participation, manageable challenge and thousands of ordinary interactions with caring adults.
Parents obviously matter enormously.
So do other adults around a child.
Including grandparents.
I’m not suggesting Grandad determines how a child turns out.
Far from it.
There will be countless influences I can’t control.
But that’s precisely why these early years interest me.
Early childhood gives grandparents a remarkable opportunity. While children still naturally want to come along, ordinary time together can help build foundations they’ll carry into a more complicated world.
So what foundations am I interested in?
For me, they come down to three things.
You matter.
You belong.
You’re strong.
I don’t mean teaching those words. I mean helping a child experience them.
You matter. I listen to you. I notice you. I’m interested in what you think. Your questions aren’t an interruption. You can contribute.
You belong. There’s a place for you here. You’re part of what we’re doing. You don’t have to earn your place by being impressive. Come with me.
You’re strong. You can have a go. You can get something wrong. You can be frustrated without the world ending. You can ask for help. You can try again. You can discover that not knowing how to do something is simply the bit that comes before learning how.
None of this guarantees what sort of teenager or adult a child will become. That’s not the point.
I’m trying to give him experiences he can build upon.
What do I want to make normal?
This may be the part that matters most to me.
The wider world will eventually tell my grandson all sorts of things about what being a man looks like.
I don’t control that. Nor should I try to fill his head with the “correct” opinions before somebody else gets there. I’m interested in something earlier and quieter.
What can Grandad help make normal before the world starts telling the child what’s normal?
A man apologises when he’s wrong.
A man treats women as equals.
A man can disagree without despising someone.
A man can lose without blaming somebody.
A man can be strong and gentle.
A man doesn’t have to know everything.
A man can change his mind.
A man talks to the waiter with the same respect he talks to the CEO.
A man encounters somebody different from himself and gets curious rather than threatened.
A man fails at something and says: “Right. Let’s have another go.”
A child doesn’t need a lecture about any of that.
They need to see it being normal.
That’s what I mean when I talk about grandadding as leadership through example.
Not standing in front. Not dispensing wisdom. Living your life where a child can see it.
No extra grandadding required
This is the bit I don’t want us to miss.
I’m not proposing another list of worthy activities for grandparents.
Take them here. Teach them this. Buy this educational toy. Complete these 27 enriching experiences before their fifth birthday or you’ve ruined their university chances.
No thanks.
No extra grandadding required.
You’re making breakfast anyway. Let them help.
You’re fixing something anyway. Give them a go.
You’re going to the shops anyway. Bring them along.
They’ve got something to tell you. Listen.
You don’t know how something works. Let them see you learning.
Something goes wrong. Let them see how you handle it.
That’s the opportunity. Not necessarily doing more things for a child. Letting the child do more things with you.
While I’ve got his attention
Eventually my grandson won’t automatically want to come with me.
One day he’ll have his own places to go.
I’ll be sad but that’s exactly what I want for him. But we’re not there yet. Right now, I have some of his attention. Quite a lot of it, actually. And unlike the companies that will eventually compete for it, I have one enormous advantage.
I love him.
So while getting his attention is still relatively easy, I’m going to make the most of it.
Not by filling every minute. Not by turning Grandad into another educator. Not by trying to prepare him for every possible future.
I’m going to invite him into real life.
Give him a go. Listen. Let him help. Let him see me learning. Bring him along.
There’s an opportunity here.
I’m not going to sleep through it.