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ids bounce from one interest to the next—games, videos, trends—without landing anywhere. Their energy is real, but without direction, it scatters. The great Renaissance builders didn’t wait for inspiration. They picked a goal and worked toward it, one sketch, one stroke at a time. This isn’t about external pressure—it’s about helping kids ask themselves, “What do I want to make or pursue?” That simple question anchors their curiosity. It turns drifting interests into something solid—a plan, a project, a purpose.

One evening, my son mentioned he wanted to write a story—“a real one, like in a book.” I asked what kind. He shrugged. “Adventure, maybe.” I told him to think on it. A few days later, he brought me a rough draft—three pages, smudged and chaotic. I didn’t correct it. I asked, “What’s the next part?” He paused, then launched into chapter two. Over the next week, we didn’t talk about finishing—we just talked about the story. It grew. So did his sense of ownership. That goal didn’t stay tidy, but it stayed alive—because it came from him.

You can support this process by helping them listen for what sticks. After a burst of enthusiasm, wait a day or two, then ask, “Still thinking about that?” If they are, offer to help them take the next step: sketch a plan, gather materials, mark a calendar. Revisit it a week later—not to evaluate, but to keep it warm. When they see that a goal can evolve, stretch, and survive real life, they begin to trust it—and themselves.

TIPS

• Let goals emerge from their own words
• Don’t frame it as achievement—frame it as pursuit
• Stay curious, not managerial

ACTIVITIES

• Still Thinking?: After a spark, follow up with “Still into that idea?”
• Next Step Map: Sketch a simple path from start to next step—no pressure
• Goal Tracker: Mark small milestones, but let them define success