AI craze should make parents introspect

MY seven-year-old daughter asked Google Gemini on her grandmother’s phone, “My dad is not playing with me. What should I do to convince him?”

Before I could say anything in my defence, she smiled and said, “Lo sun lo, vo aapko kya keh rahi hai (Listen to what she is telling you).” Gemini said, “Sometimes fathers are busy with work or feel tired, so they may not have time to play. You can politely ask him when he is free and tell him that you really want to spend some time with him. You can also choose a small game that does not take much time...”

The episode made me happy, uncomfortable and thoughtful. Happy, because a child trusted technology to express an emotion she perhaps felt I was too busy to sense. Uncomfortable, because that question was not really meant for an app, but for me. Thoughtful, because it showed the reality of our lives and our changing priorities.

Children today are growing up in a world where answers come instantly and devices respond right away. Parents are often busy: working, scrolling on their phones, worrying about responsibilities or telling themselves they will find time for kids later.

What struck me most was not that my daughter spoke to an AI “assistant”, but why she did it. She didn’t ask it a homework question or a spelling doubt. She asked for a strategy. The app responded kindly. But kindness is no substitute for a parent’s presence.

This is not an argument against technology. In fact, technology has given wider access to knowledge. But it raises an uncomfortable question: are digital tools filling emotional gaps we didn’t even realise we were creating?

Children of earlier generations made complaints to grandparents, siblings, neighbours — or to nobody. Today, a child can ask a machine how to get her father’s attention.

Parenting has never been easy, and guilt has always been part of it. But modern parenting comes with a unique challenge. We want to give our children everything, yet we often struggle to give them the thing they want the most — time.

When a child says, “My dad is not playing with me,” she is not asking for a toy or a game. She is asking for a chance to be heard.

The grandmother’s gentle remark from the kitchen — “sun le (listen to her)” — was a reminder many of us need. Children speak in simple sentences, but their meanings are layered. If we don’t listen carefully, they may stop telling us altogether or start telling someone else.

Perhaps the real lesson is not about AI mesmerising kids, but about adults drifting away from them. If children are turning to digital tools for advice on how to connect with parents, adults need to ask themselves why this is so.

That evening, I played with my daughter. Not out of guilt, but out of gratitude, and for the chance to listen before it was too late.