From Playgrounds to Pixels

I still remember those endless summer vacations when the library was my favorite hangout spot. Borrowing stacks of books, losing myself in stories, and escaping to new worlds—those were the days. But now, it seems like kids have traded those literary adventures for binge-watching endless episodes of shows and movies. Sure, streaming has its perks, but where’s the joy of cracking open a new book and letting your imagination do the work?

Remember the simple joy of playing outside? Building sandcastles, getting dirty, and letting creativity run wild. Nowadays, it feels like kids are more glued to their screens than to the great outdoors. Video games like PUBG have replaced the playground, and instead of making real-life memories, they’re leveling up in a virtual world.

Hanging out with my parents was all about exploring the streets, trying different street food, and enjoying every moment. These days, it seems like kids prefer the convenience of cozy restaurants and AI-powered food delivery apps. There’s something about the hustle and bustle of street vendors that just can’t be replicated in a polished café.

And let’s not forget the excitement of waiting for rain holidays. We’d sit in front of the TV, fingers crossed, counting down until the announcement came. Now, kids are informed days in advance through weather apps and red alerts. The surprise, the anticipation—it’s all gone. Where’s the fun in knowing everything before it happens?

Back then, my friends’ homes were practically my second home. We’d spend hours together, chatting, laughing, and making memories. Now, it feels like kids are more comfortable staying in their own space, glued to their devices, and missing out on the joys of real human connection.

Even our toys had stories. I can still remember the attachment I had to my soft toys, carrying them around like they were part of the family. Today, kids switch out their toys as easily as they change apps. The emotional connection, the memories tied to those toys—it’s fading, and it makes me wonder what kind of childhood they’ll look back on.

There was a time when teachers were revered. Their scoldings were seen as a way to push us forward, to help us grow. But today’s kids seem more sensitive, and even a small argument can spiral into something much bigger. It’s like the resilience we once had is slipping away, replaced by a fragility that worries me.

Back then, we were blissfully unaware of the stresses of life—depression, commitments, the weight of the world. Today, kids are exposed to everything too soon, influenced by social media and the constant buzz of information. It’s heartbreaking to see them lose their innocence so early, to watch them navigate a world that seems more complex than ever.

We used to capture our memories in diaries, handwriting our thoughts and feelings, creating something tangible that we could hold onto. Now, it’s all about snap streaks and digital reminders. The personal touch is disappearing, replaced by screens and algorithms that don’t hold the same warmth.

Remember waiting for the newspaper delivery each morning? That thrill of flipping through the pages, discovering the day’s news, felt like a small adventure. Now, kids get their updates in real-time through social media. The anticipation is gone, lost in the endless scroll of a newsfeed.

Celebrations were once pure joy, unfiltered and free. We celebrated for the sake of happiness, not for the perfect photo op. But now, it feels like people celebrate just to capture the moment for social media. It’s all about the likes and the comments, not the actual experience.

And innocence? It seems to be slipping away faster than ever. We grew up blissfully unaware of the darker sides of life. Today’s kids are growing up too fast, exposed to too much, too soon. They’re mature beyond their years, but at what cost? Smartphones have become their guide, shaping their worldview and taking away the magic of simply being a kid.

So, what happened? Somewhere along the line, smartphones took over. They’ve replaced real experiences with virtual ones, and the memories we once cherished have been traded for pixels and posts. We’ve lost something along the way—something important. But it’s not too late to reclaim it. It’s up to us to remind ourselves, and the next generation, of the beauty in unplugging, connecting, and truly living.