Praise be to my Lord a thousand times—I’ve been a grandfather for over three years now. May God bless everyone with their children and grandchildren. I have an adorable granddaughter, Nurşen… lively, radiant, full of joy—just like her name. She has taken her place right at the center of our lives. With her vulnerability, she has somehow made all of us devoted to her.
Being a grandfather… for me, it’s a completely new role. Over the past three years, I’ve realized that I now look at life from a very different place than I did as a father. How so? Let me share something that happened this morning with my granddaughter. If you read on, you’ll see how my perspective has shifted.
It was early in the morning… Her mother hadn’t slept well and was still resting. Nurşen insisted that we turn on the TV—both her grandmother and I gave in. We thought: let her watch something so she stays quiet, her mother can sleep, and we can prepare breakfast peacefully.
She watched her favorite cartoon. Fully immersed. Completely absorbed.
And then?
Then came the storm.
She suddenly started screaming, crying, throwing herself on the floor. Believe it or not, three adults couldn’t calm her down for nearly an hour.
Why?
My daughter explained: “This always happens when she watches TV for too long.”
So what’s really going on here?
Let’s look at the science behind it. A young child’s brain—especially around the age of four—doesn’t process things the way we think. Fast-moving scenes, constant visual changes, bright colors, flashing lights… these don’t just entertain a child; they overstimulate the nervous system—almost like plugging it into high voltage.
In other words, during that one hour, the child isn’t simply watching TV. Her entire nervous system is being accelerated, stimulated, pushed to its limits. And when the screen turns off, she can’t immediately adjust back to the slow pace of real life. That’s when the meltdown begins.
So this isn’t about misbehavior or spoiled attitudes. It’s about a breakdown in regulation. A tiny body overwhelmed by massive stimulation—and eventually, it bursts. That’s exactly what we witnessed with Nurşen this morning.
It wasn’t only the duration of exposure; the abrupt ending of the screen experience made it even harder for her to transition out of that heightened state, ultimately triggering the meltdown.
So what’s the solution?
Apparently, we shouldn’t turn off the TV abruptly. Instead, we should prepare the child: “We’ll turn it off in five minutes.” And when the screen goes off, don’t leave them in a void. Gently transition them—offer a book, a simple game, or even a short walk.
Perhaps most importantly, don’t immediately replace one form of stimulation with another. Let them settle. Let their system recalibrate.
The broader principle is this: children need consistent, age-appropriate limits on screen time. Structure and predictability help them understand boundaries.
What does that look like?
Maybe two cartoons a day. Or depending on age, 20–30 minutes of screen time. The essence of it all comes down to three things: routine, consistency, and limits.
Now, is there a spiritual dimension to this?
I believe there is.
Because Islam offers a way of life that protects human nature—through its commands, prohibitions, and guidance. Think of the Qur’anic concept of mizan: balance. Everything in measure. That’s exactly the issue here—the child’s internal balance is disrupted. Excessive stimulation leads to loss of control.
And this isn’t just about children.
It’s about us, too.
Constant screens. Endless news. Nonstop social media. Our nervous systems are also overwhelmed. Our patience wears thin. Our inner peace shrinks. We call it “stress.” A child expresses it through screams.
If you look at the Prophet Muhammad’s (peace be upon him) interaction with children, you see a gentle approach—never overburdening, never overwhelming. Giving only what they can carry.
But today, without realizing it, we overload children’s minds with more stimulation than they can handle—and then expect them to remain calm.
That’s not fair.
So I asked myself: Is the problem in the child—or in us?
The answer isn’t hard.
It’s in us.
And today, my granddaughter taught me something profound: Being a grandfather is not just about teaching what you know. It’s also about relearning life—from your grandchild, and alongside them.
