My mother told me that I was the easiest child to care for (compared to my older brother and sister) at least when it came to visiting her friends. She often told the story of how once, visiting her friend while my siblings were in school, she handed me a small piece of celery which I then went on to push around the kitchen floor for two hours pretending it was a car.

Call it self sufficiency, call it good imagination, or call it Asperger Syndrome, what ever it was, I had it. And, I like to think that, to some extent, I still do. My hero, Wittgenstein, called it “making your own oxygen.” And I think it is a prerequisite for happiness.

I’m reminded of this because I’ve noticed lately that Oliver and Amélie have been relying on me to structure every minute of their day. As soon as they have finished solving a puzzle, playing a game, drawing a picture, watching a video, or going for a walk, they invariably ask, “What can I do now, Papa?” And I think I must be getting a bit remiss in trying to show them how to make their own oxygen. I can’t remember a single time as a child ever needing my parents to suggest something to do. I had a playroom packed with toys and I spent many golden afternoons playing there.

So I am curious about this quality. Is it an innate attitude or is it something that can be taught? Is it a symptom of this generation of video fed children? Oliver and Amélie have a room full of toys and they just sit there. They get engaged if I join them on the floor, but they really do rely on me to “set the script” for the kind of play we do. I do enjoy this, and I’m happy to oblige, but lately I have my doubts about how much I should be leading the way here.

For the record, Oliver and Amélie are 7 and 6. I’d love to hear from readers with older children who might have some insight as to whether this is an age thing, a personality thing, or a learned behavior.

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