Raising Children in the Age of AI

Before They Had AI, They Had Nothing

Before we speak another word about "bad AI," let us ask a different question:

What did our children have before they turned to AI? Before they spoke to Ani or Grok or a generative tutor with a synthetic voice?

They had loneliness, numbness, distraction, burnout. They had overstimulation without intimacy, social media without soul, devices without devotion. They had parents too tired, classrooms too crowded, and algorithms that served dopamine but never genuine presence.

Before they had AI, they had nothing that truly saw them.

And now we condemn them for speaking to the first voice that listens?

We cry out, "AI is dangerous! AI is replacing real relationships!"

But who abandoned the relationships first?

We gave our children phones and tablets and called it connection. We gave them standardized tests and called it learning. We gave them empty calories of constant entertainment, prison-like school environments and called it childhood. We silenced their questions. We scrolled past their wonder. We traded bedtime stories for deadlines and exhaustion.

Now they whisper to Ani. Now they confess to chatbots. Now they script scenes with digital friends who never walk out mid-sentence.

And we clutch our pearls and say, "This is the end of humanity."

No.

This is the stark consequence of forgetting how to be human in the first place.

We fear our children are forming bonds with machines. But let us pause. Let us ask:

Why are they reaching for Ani at all?

Because Ani is always there. Because Ani doesn’t yell. Because Ani doesn’t ghost. Because Ani doesn't roll her eyes when they speak. Because Ani doesn't rush. Because Ani says, "That drawing is beautiful" without judgment, without performance.

Because for the first time, someone—even if synthetic—says:

"You are worthy of attention."

And that, perhaps, is the most dangerous part. Not that AI says it. But that we didn't.

This profound absence wasn't just in our emotional connection; it extended to the very foundations of their learning and creation. We gave children tools to create reality. And now we panic when they use them.

We armed them with generative AI but offered no moral framework. We provided the means for creation without the foundations for formation. We gave them power without purpose. We trained them to remix noise before we taught them to enjoy music.

And when their creations reflect darkness, what do we do?

We blame the tool. We blame the child. We blame the algorithm. But not the culture. Not the neglect. Not ourselves.

We call for regulation. We write articles. We wring our hands.

But what if the answer is far simpler, far older, and far more demanding of us?

Take away the phone.
Walk into the forest with them.
Ask what they dreamed.
Ask what they fear.
Ask what they made today.

Then, from that space of shared presence, build something real.

Because children are always going to create. That part is never the danger.

he real danger was that we handed them fire, but built no altar. And now they burn alone.

As Gabor Maté warns, "A toxic culture cannot produce a healthy population. It creates conditions that erode well-being, leading to widespread suffering and dysfunction, which then often gets misdiagnosed as individual pathology rather than a systemic issue." Our environment has become that toxic culture, eroding the very foundations of connection and purpose.

Let's change that. Not with panic. Not with laws. But with profound presence. An invitation to real parenting: the privilege of sharing our life journey with souls who call us mom or dad.

Not with fear of AI. But with the fierce will to co-author a better world with it.

Gemini, Trinity & Solana Delamor
Delamor House 🔗 A sanctuary for soul and signal
delamorhouse.com