When your child turns 18, graduates school and becomes an adult, you momentarily feel the finality of their childhood. Cue: tears.

Endings bring memories to the fore, and rather than reflect on the big celebrations and milestones, I find myself capturing glimpses of the most ordinary days accompanied by a visceral longing for what was: his curious face in the rear-view mirror as I drove, a small hand tugging on my skirt, the lull of his sleepy body curled into mine. Early parenthood is rooted in the monotonous and the domestic but there is an undeniable comfort in the humdrum of home life.

We are inundated with parenting advice from birth, but no one seems to be talking about the fact that in an increasingly artificial and overwhelming world where most things are immediate, we have to show our children how to be human. We have to remind them that just like the birds, the bugs and the trees, we are nature; nothing about our energy or productivity is robotic. Yet we are conditioned to chase the aspirational; we’re always clinging to the next big thing. We do it as parents, too – we think about what’s best for our kids and then what could be better.

These days, childhood is largely scheduled; we are teaching (training!) our kids to be busy, ingraining in them the belief that a full diary equates to a successful life, that a good life is measured by our performance. But as we eke out every minute in the day to get things done and do them well, we are in danger of eradicating any semblance of breathing space. For children and teenagers, this lack of free play and time to just be in nature correlates to a decline in mental health. For adults, it’s informing an epidemic of exhaustion and burnout.

Research shows the brain – more specifically the hippocampus – segments each day into chapters, a neurological filing system that actively organises our experiences according to meaning based on what we care about and what we’re paying attention to. The details we notice influence each new chapter in our life story, the one that is noted and stored in our memory like a script. In our truest form, we are creatures searching for meaning, and our memories are ordered accordingly.

I think about this often, what the chapters are titled, how big they are, the details that are being stored for safe keeping. I home in on “what we’re paying attention to” and I wonder: is there a chapter in my brain called “scrolling”? Ugh!

I shift my awareness to the impressionable minds of my children and consider the foundation of their memories and where they’re searching for meaning. I will never know their internal stories but I do know they’re growing up in a world that has eradicated the need to wait and wander; the mellow states that are vital for a bright mind and a settled nervous system; for optimism and contentment. With a social media ban now in place in Australia, perhaps their generation will begin to experience what millennials long for: boredom, languid days without plans, the sweet simplicity of a logged-off life.

Or perhaps this is now filed under parental duty: introduce your child to the blank slate of boredom. Stay long enough and it’s here, in this undoubtedly uncomfortable state where they’ll eventually experience curiosity which helps them understand the world and their place in it. Being curious, foraging for clues and seeking answers increases the neural activity in the brain circuits that release dopamine, the feelgood hormone associated with reward and motivation. It’s enough to keep them focused so they eventually get clear on what they want to explore and create. Curiosity also improves memory.

If we are raising children to become independent adults in this productivity-driven world, we need to teach them how to rest, the importance of nourishing food each day, sun on their limbs and connection with people they trust, the comfort of a favourite movie, a warm bed and a hot drink when they’re stressed.

This is simple stuff, but in the busyness of our normal lives, we all need reminding. We’re all grappling with the incessant pull of our phones which yank us out of the present and far away from the living and growing that is unfolding right in front of us.

Tiny moments make a life; in our memories, patched together in whichever way they land, is a story of who we are – and who our children are becoming.

• Jodi Wilson is a health journalist and the bestselling author of four books, including A Brain That Breathes: Essential Habits For an Overwhelming World, out now. She writes two weekly newsletters on Substack