Rediscovering my joy as my children follow theirs

“The hardest realisation was seeing how often my interactions had hidden agendas. The kids would excitedly share something, but I was already mentally preparing to interrupt, redirect, or correct them… This hit me hard: was I inadvertently setting us up for the same distant relationship I’d had with my own parents…?”
– Deep Singh

      

My greatest fear as a parent is that our kids might grow up to hate us. It’s what happened between me and my own parents, and now with two kids of our own, I’m desperate to avoid repeating history.

So when Naval Ravikant tweeted out that The Sovereign Child was the most important parenting book he’d ever read, I thought I might have found a solution.

I rarely finish non-fiction books, but this one only took me a week and it felt like holding a mirror up to myself, confronting me with uncomfortable truths I’d long avoided.

Until reading the book, my parenting approach was structured, rule-based, and pretty authoritarian. When our first child arrived in 2016, I bought into the common wisdom that strict scheduling and firm boundaries were essential, including the ‘cry it out’ method, which to this day remains my biggest regret as a parent.

When our second child arrived prematurely, the old ‘cry it out’ playbook was never an option but we continued to follow tight schedules: bedtime at exactly 8:30, structured meals, carefully curated snack times. We’d hear about parents whose kids stayed up late or grazed on snacks freely, and we’d quietly judge them. Meanwhile, I was secretly binge-eating chocolate in the kitchen, a habit that reflects my relationship with food that I still struggle with.

Our kids have grown up to be cautious and hesitant to step beyond invisible boundaries I hadn’t even realised I’d drawn myself. It bugged me endlessly that other kids seemed effortlessly confident and adventurous, while ours often looked anxiously to us for approval before trying something new. Only recently, through reading The Sovereign Child, have I recognised my role in shaping that anxious hesitation.

This book didn’t just teach me, it confronted me. It forced me to ask questions I’d avoided: Why exactly do we have these rules? Why do we insist on meaningless rituals like forced manners (“say please,” “say thank you”), without explaining why they matter? Embarrassingly, I found the kids couldn’t even articulate why manners mattered because we’d never properly explained it ourselves.

The hardest realisation was seeing how often my interactions had hidden agendas. The kids would excitedly share something, but I was already mentally preparing to interrupt, redirect, or correct them. Conversations weren’t genuine; they were transactions. This hit me hard: was I inadvertently setting us up for the same distant relationship I’d had with my own parents as a teenager?

So what’s changed since reading The Sovereign Child and discovering Taking Children Seriously? Pretty much everything.

Now, when my son plays Minecraft, I watch with genuine curiosity. Recently, I saw him changing DNS settings on his computer to solve a technical issue. He’ll be nine soon. That’s advanced problem-solving in my mind. My daughter, aged seven, spends a lot of time absorbed by YouTube channels I initially found questionable. But rather than controlling her viewing habits, I’m focusing on expanding her world by example. Sometimes I’ll paint quietly in the corner, trusting her curiosity to lead her over to me. And it often does.

But school has become an issue. I’ve become increasingly convinced that traditional education might be meaningless or even harmful. There was an incident when our son was younger, involving another child who repeatedly tried to hit him. Instead of taking immediate action, I followed the conventional steps by contacting his teacher and leaving it to the school. Now, I’d handle it differently. If I won’t tolerate it, why should my kids?

Given the world they’re growing into with our future shaped by AI and autonomous robots, I struggle to justify teaching them obsolete facts and routines. I think it’s better they pursue what genuinely interests them now. 

If my son wants to create Minecraft textures and skins, great. If my daughter dreams of running her own YouTube channel, well let’s get on with it. Their happiness and creativity today seem far more valuable to me than arbitrary lessons designed for the world of yesterday.

Thanks to The Sovereign Child and Taking Children Seriously, I find myself holding a mirror up to myself, noticing my judgements, questioning my decisions, and ensuring my interactions with my kids come without judgment or hidden agendas. They inspire me to become a better parent and I’m realising that trusting them to follow their joy is exactly what’s letting me rediscover mine.

See also:

• Lulie Tanett on how curiosity-driven learning with no parental educational agenda actually works in practice
• A conversation about taking children seriously
• In defence of screens and video games

Deep Singh, 2025, ‘Rediscovering my joy as my children follow theirs’, https://takingchildrenseriously.com/rediscovering-my-joy-as-my-children-follow-theirs