2 - The Game Your Child Is Playing

Toye Oyelese

Welcome back to Navigating Uncertainty. I’m Dr. Toye Oyelese, and I’m glad you’re with me again. Last time, we talked about what it’s like for a child to face the world blurry-eyed—like I did as a boy who didn’t know he was blind. We explored how invisible struggles shape capability, even when parents feel helpless just watching from the sidelines. Today, I want to give you a new lens—a playful one. So, try to imagine your child not just growing up, but as an adventurer moving through a multi-level video game.

Toye Oyelese

Each stage, each year, each change isn’t just random. It’s a quest. A real challenge—like a puzzle or boss fight they need to solve to move forward. Now, Erik Erikson put words to these challenges with his eight stages of development. You might remember his name—he was a giant in 20th century psychology—though, uh, I’ll admit, I always hesitate before saying his name aloud. Erik… Erikson. There, got it right that time! When I discovered his work back in medical school, something just clicked. Children aren’t simply passive—they’re actively figuring things out. They’re not just getting taller; they are building a more human self, step by step. The catch, and this is tough for us parents: we can’t play their quest for them. We’re the guides, not the players. So think about that as we walk through these stages—your child’s game.

Toye Oyelese

Let’s start with Stage One—in infancy. You’ve got this tiny, helpless baby. Their quest is simple but profound: “Can I depend on the world?” When they cry, does someone come? When they’re hungry, does food appear? They’re learning whether the world, or at least their little world, is trustworthy. If you respond reliably, they begin to hope. If not, mistrust seeps in. And here’s the tricky bit: you can’t inject that hope directly into your baby. All you can do is provide consistency—consistently showing up. They’ll conclude, in their own way, if the world can be trusted. That’s Level One.

Toye Oyelese

Now, Level Two: the toddler years—a phase parents both dread and laugh about later. “I do it myself!” That anthem is so familiar. Two- and three-year-olds are discovering their own agency. The quest here is not defiance, though it might feel that way when you’re running late and they refuse your help with the zipper for the twentieth time. What’s at stake is their “Will”—the inner drive that says, “I can make things happen.” If you teach them how to do things—pour milk, zip their coat, put on shoes—but allow some floundering (and some spilled milk), they build will. If you swoop in and do it all just to keep things tidy or on schedule, shame and doubt can take root. I remember one morning, my own son insisted on pouring his milk and made a proper mess of it. It was so tempting to just handle it myself—cleaner, faster. But I realized, he wasn’t just being stubborn. He was earning “Will,” and my job was to step back. Teach, support, but don’t take over.

Toye Oyelese

Move forward to preschool—Stage Three—ages four to six. Quest: “Am I good, or am I bad?” Kids start launching ideas, initiating play, proposing all sorts of… creative projects. Maybe they want to build a fort out of sofa cushions. Maybe they want to dig a hole in your backyard that’s oddly specific. Your reaction in those moments? That’s where the magic happens. Support their ideas and initiative—don’t take over or shame them. The reward is “Purpose,” that sense that, “My ideas matter. I can make things happen.” If they get the sense that grown-ups need to approve and manage everything, guilt can creep in, and they might hold back.

Toye Oyelese

School age, Stage Four—seven to twelve years: “Am I successful or worthless?” Here, kids are comparing, competing, building, and asking, “Am I actually good at anything?” You can teach, you can supply materials, but then you have to step back. Let them struggle, fail, and—eventually—succeed. Competence comes from their effort, not your skills. And trust me, this is where so many parents—myself included—trip up. Watching your child wrestle with homework or mess up at piano practice? It’s hard not to slip in, help arrange, edit, even “co-produce” their project—just because you want them to succeed. But every time we do that, we steal a bit of the competence they need to earn.

Toye Oyelese

Then, Level Five—adolescence. Teenagers: “Who am I, and where am I going?” They start questioning… well, everything, including your most cherished beliefs. It can feel like rebellion, but it’s just them searching for “Fidelity”—the faithfulness to their own identity and values. I remember, when my son was fifteen, he poked holes in every one of my arguments. Part of me wanted to just say, “Because I said so!” But that’s not the quest. My job was to explain why I believed what I did, and then let him figure out if he agreed. He needed to question, even disagree, to build his own sense of self. You see, at every stage, it’s the child actually doing the work. We just clear the path and hold the supportive boundaries.

Toye Oyelese

So, what can you actually teach, and what’s out of your hands? Here’s the big distinction. You can teach your infant that you show up, teach your toddler how a zipper works, show your preschooler their ideas matter, teach your older child skills, and share with your teen what you value. But you can’t do their quest for them. You can’t build their hope. Their sense of will. Their confidence in their own ideas. Their sense of competence. Their identity. These internal rewards—they’re earned only by the player, not handed off by the guide. I know how hard it is not to step in—honestly, it took me years to learn to bite my tongue and let someone fumble a bit, whether as a parent or even as a young doctor. When I was just starting out, I wanted to rescue every patient, solve every problem before anyone struggled or got anxious. Over time, I realized—sometimes, me stepping back gave them space to step up.

Toye Oyelese

So maybe, think back: when have you wanted to “rescue” your child? Where does that urge to help come from? What if being a supportive guide just means being present—teaching, sharing, but letting them wrestle and sometimes stumble? It’s not about being hands-off or cold. It’s about discerning when your involvement robs them of exactly what they’re working so hard to earn. Parenting, like this whole game, is itself a level—one we all keep playing. The challenges don’t disappear when childhood ends; they just change shape. Maybe you’re in middle adulthood now, focused on caring for the next generation, and guess what? You’re still earning your own rewards, still figuring out the game as you go.

Toye Oyelese

That’s where we’ll head next—into the realm of fear. Because, if we’re honest, our urge to step in and take over usually comes from our own discomfort. Next episode, I’ll share a story about a sleepover and the knot-in-the-stomach fear that taught me how to work with anxiety—instead of letting it run the show. Nobody has it all figured out, myself included. That’s the game. Thanks for listening, and I hope you keep playing—supporting, teaching, but letting your child be the hero of their own quest. See you next time.