There is a familiar scene in most homes today. A child sits cross legged, eyes glazed, thumb flicking with Olympic precision. The television murmurs in the background like an ignored relative. Parents watch this and sigh. Screen time, they say, is ruining childhood. And then, almost immediately, they hand the child the phone again because peace is precious and silence is convenient.
We complain about screens the way we complain about traffic. Loudly. Repeatedly. And yet we remain firmly seated in the same jam.
The real question we seldom ask is this. If we take away the phone and switch off the television, what replaces them?
The answer is embarrassingly simple.
It is you. And it is me. As storytellers!
Before you protest and say you are not a storyteller, let me reassure you. Storytelling is not an elite art reserved for authors, dramatists, or people with scarves and deep voices. It is an instinct. Every grandmother knew it. Every village elder practised it. Somewhere along the way, we outsourced it to screens and called it progress.
Children love stories. Not videos. Not animations. Stories. The screen merely delivers them with flashing lights because we stopped doing it ourselves.
I am not going to get technical about story arcs or character development or narrative tension. Those words are excellent for workshops but terrible for living rooms. What I want to talk about is one simple tool that every storyteller already has.
Audience reaction.
You see, when you tell a story to a child, the child tells you immediately whether you are succeeding. No feedback forms required.
Wide eyes mean you are winning.
Eyes shifting around the room mean you are losing them.
A yawn is not a personal insult. It is a brutally honest review.
Fidgeting is the polite way of saying, “Uncle, this is going nowhere.”
The beauty of telling stories to children is that they are honest audiences. Adults pretend. Children do not bother.
So watch the child. If the eyes widen, slow down. Let the moment breathe. Milk it. If the eyes wander, change your tone. Raise your voice. Lower it. Whisper.
If a yawn appears, introduce a surprise. A lion. A secret door. A sudden storm.
If they interrupt, rejoice. You have engaged them.
Storytelling is not about perfection. It is about connection.
A child does not need a polished performance. A child needs presence.
Use your voice. Make it squeaky. Make it deep. Make it ridiculous.
Use your face. Eyebrows are underappreciated actors.
Use pauses. Silence is suspense.
And above all, use your eyes to watch theirs.
I say this not as theory, but from practice. With four grandchildren, I have discovered that this is the finest ready reckoner I have ever known. Better than all the letters readers send me. Better than the reactions I receive after giving a speech. A child’s face cannot lie.
Now try it out: Become a storyteller and get your kids away from screen addiction..!
The Author conducts an online, eight session Writers and Speakers Course. If you’d like to join, do send a thumbs-up to WhatsApp number 9892572883 or send a message to bobsbanter@gmail.com
