“Wait, can I try?”

Those are the exact words my 5 year old uses every single time they encounter me playing a game. I never answer immediately. I let them sit with their question because if just give them an answer then I’m undoubtedly setting myself up for failure. Here’s why: If I say yes, then they’ll expect that they can take control of any game any time they ask, and If I say no, then they spiral into a negotiation that typically ends with crying. So FML.

Instead I just wait…

…for as long as I can lol. I even let them repeat their question (sometimes a dozen times). I’m not saying I ignore my kid. Instead, I’ll start asking them questions about what they’re seeing and what’s interesting to them on screen. It’s an opportunity to begin understanding their motivations, their interests, their perception of what’s being played out in front of them, all while I can continue playing the game myself (greedily, that’s all I want in the moment – to just play more!).

There’s no right age to start gaming.

The thing nobody tells you is: there’s no correct age for when your kid is supposed to start playing video games. I know…that’s probably not the answer you’re looking for. But it’s true. Not five. Not seven. Not when the American Academy of Pediatrics says screens are fine.

It’s not about a age, it’s about readiness. And readiness looks different for every kid.

So what should I look for?

“Is my kid old enough?” is the wrong question. It assumes every five-year-old kid is the exact same.

👀 Watch for the following instead:

  • They ask to hold the controller. Not “can I play” in the abstract. I mean they literally are reaching for the controller mid-session, specifically asking if they can control what’s going on.

  • They start mimicking you (or the character). Leaning their body with turns when you’re racing on the screen. Pressing an imaginary button close to or at the same time you are. Physically moving their head in different directions, attentive to elements in play. Their body’s already playing before they can.

  • They get frustrated watching. I’m not talking bored. I mean frustrated. There’s a difference. Bored means they’re done. They’re out. They don’t give a shit anymore, and you probably couldn’t bribe them to. Frustrated means they want in. They want more. I’m not saying look for tantrums. I’m saying look for signals of competitiveness and eagerness via frustration mannerisms.

None of those are about age. They’re about attention pointed at control, not just escapism via what’s on the screen. Staring into the void at Cocomelon is very different than scheming how to double jump a character up to a higher platform.

The move that actually works: co-play before solo-play.

You know what? Hand your kid the controller while you navigate the game’s menu. Let your kid call the shots and play them out on screen for them. Let your kid control a very mundane portion of the game until or unless there’s risk involved, at which point take back control and explain the risk and reward. If your kid is signaling they want to have their hand at controlling the experience with intent, let them press buttons and feel cause-and-effect without allowing them to play the whole game by themselves.

It’s a longer runway than most parents give (imo). And that’s fine. At the very least, let them watch you play longer than feels necessary – the watching isn’t wasted time, it’s rehearsal.

When they do go solo, the game matters more than their age. Forgiving game mechanics. Frequent checkpoints. Low stakes for failure. Not because failure is bad for them, but because a five-year-old who dies eleven times in the same spot with no save point isn’t building resilience and focus, they’re building a hell of a tantrum to come.

What’s the actual signal you’re seeing (or have seen) that you think might indicate they are, or are not, ready to play? If your kid already plays games…in hindsight, what was the tell that made you hand over control finally?

Hit reply! I want to hear about that specific moment or signal. Again, every kid is different.

Thanks for pressing pause with me!

– Patrick