What Parents of Children Aged 0–5 Really Need to Know About Screen Time

Recently, I was invited to participate in an international special recording for My Kids Health, where I discussed screen time with experts from various countries.

As I reviewed the research and clinical evidence, one thing became increasingly clear to me: parents’ confusion has never been simply about “whether or not to give screen time,” but rather, when children are having a meltdown and parents are exhausted, what other options do we have left? Behind the screen, there is often a family that is completely worn out. But as children watch more and more, guilt follows. Ultimately, is screen time helping or hindering a child’s development?

Theoretical Perspective: Research is concerned with more than just “how long.” In child development studies, the screen itself isn’t the only issue. The real key has never been the number of minutes spent, but rather—whether the child is alone or accompanied while in front of the screen. The American Academy of Pediatrics recommends:

0–18 months: Avoid all screen time (except for video calls)

18–24 months: If screens are used, they must feature high-quality content and be accompanied by an adult

Research also shows: Passive viewing → yields almost no learning benefits. Adult interaction → may promote language and comprehension development

For children aged 0–2, the primary source of language, emotional, and brain development is always “real-person interaction,” not the screen itself. In other words—the problem isn’t the screen; it’s whether the screen has replaced relationships.

Understanding age-specific differences: 0–2 and 2–5 cannot be measured by the same yardstick.

0–2 years: Relationships come first. During this stage, children’s brains develop through interaction: eye contact, facial expressions, turn-taking, and joint attention. If screens replace these experiences for extended periods, developmental opportunities naturally diminish. Therefore, the focus isn’t on content, but rather on short duration, low frequency, and—most importantly—adult presence and responsiveness.

2–5 years: Practicing boundaries and transition skills. For children over two years old, watching high-quality content with adult supervision can indeed help with language development. But the issue shifts to another direction: Can the child stop? Many parents find that their child has a meltdown the moment the screen is turned off. This isn’t tantrum-throwing; it’s a sign that their ability to transition hasn’t matured yet. Therefore, for children aged 2–5, the educational value of screen time often lies not in the content itself, but in—how to start, and how to end.

Step-by-Step: A Practical Approach That Works in Real Life

Step 1｜Set clear expectations before starting.

Before pressing play, explain three things to your child: what they’ll watch, how long they’ll watch it, and what they’ll do afterward. What children need most isn’t the power to choose, but predictability.

Step 2｜Make time “visible.”

Instead of saying “five minutes left,” it’s more effective to let children see time passing directly. A visual timer is a practical tool. For example, the Time Timer displays time by gradually shrinking a red area, helping children understand that “time is passing.” For 2–5-year-olds who are developing their sense of time and transition skills, this visual cue is easier to grasp than a simple verbal reminder. The Time Timer also has a mobile app available for download on the App Store: https://apps.apple.com/au/app/time-timer/id332520417

When the end becomes predictable, the emotional impact naturally decreases.

Step 3｜Give two consistent reminders.

Provide two reminders before the activity ends: 5 minutes and 1 minute. What children find hardest to handle is often not the stopping itself, but “not being mentally prepared.”

Step 4｜Co-viewing requires only “micro-interactions.”

Watching together doesn’t mean explaining everything. Simply pointing, saying a word, or responding is enough to turn passive viewing into an interactive experience.

Step 5｜Address emotions first, then transition.

When time is up, handle emotions first instead of rushing to explain. For example: “I know you really want to keep watching, and it’s upsetting when it stops. But we’ve had enough time now, so let’s move on to the next activity. It’s okay to feel upset—Mommy is here with you. Let me know when you’re ready.” Then guide your child into the next activity. What children need to learn isn’t that “it’s not okay to feel sad,”

but that “it’s okay to keep moving forward even when you’re sad.”

My Approach at Home:

I’ve also tried using screens as a “quick fix” when I was at my most exhausted. The difference is that I eventually started asking myself a question:

Is the screen helping me connect with my child, or am I temporarily handing over our relationship? When I choose to sit beside them, watch together, say a few words, and help them turn it off, my sense of guilt actually lessens. I don’t aim to eliminate screen time entirely, but rather to ensure that—after screen time ends—the connection between my child and me remains intact. My child knows: I’m still here.

Closing

Screen time is never a matter of right or wrong. For immigrant families, it is sometimes a tool, sometimes a helper, and sometimes simply a way to get through the day. What truly matters isn’t the number of minutes, but whether—during that time—the child feels seen, heard, and accompanied. When the screen doesn’t replace our relationship, it isn’t just a waste of time; it can become a part of life.

The issue has never been how much screen time the child has, but—beyond the screen—whether we are still there.

About the Author
Chloe Wong

Chloe Wong is an immigrant mother and speech pathologist based in Melbourne. She is the founder of Blackburn Speech & Paediatric Therapy, a bilingual multidisciplinary clinic supporting children and families from culturally and linguistically diverse backgrounds.

Having worked closely with immigrant families for many years, Chloe believes that while grandparents and parents may differ in approach, their intention is the same — to give the next generation a better life.

Through this column, she brings together research-informed insights and practical strategies to build bridges between generations, helping love translate into meaningful, effective support for children.

Follow her on Instagram: @phd.speechie.mum 

What Are We Really Weighing When Choosing Between Sleep Training and Rocking Them to Sleep?

“Do I really have to do sleep training for my child to fall asleep on their own?”

“If I don’t train them, will they need to be rocked to sleep for the rest of their life?”

These are questions I hear almost every week at the clinic. And in Australia, this issue often comes with an added layer of practical pressure.

With no domestic help and no grandparents on hand to assist, many parents work during the day and then face nighttime awakenings, bedtime routines, and chronic sleep deprivation alone at night. So, when energy and patience are completely drained, “sleep training” appears to be a way out that can get the family functioning again. This choice isn’t a sign of indifference, but rather the struggle and balancing act of immigrant families under real-world conditions.

Sleep training and soothing are not black-and-white issues. Parents who support sleep training are not unloving; they are simply exhausted. And parents who choose to soothe their children are not being indulgent; they are sensitively attuned to the fact that what a child needs at night is companionship and a sense of security.

Behind both approaches lies the same underlying motivation: the hope that the child sleeps well, and that the adults can hold on.

For infants and toddlers, sleep is an experience of separation. From a developmental perspective, sleep is not merely physical rest but an experience tinged with separation. For young children, falling asleep symbolizes a temporary separation from their primary caregiver. Turning off the lights, lying down, and the room gradually falling silent—this sequence of changes is, in itself, enough to trigger anxiety in some children. This explains why some children who seem independent and able to explore freely during the day become particularly clingy at night. This is not a regression; rather, in the darkness and silence, their nervous systems need to reaffirm their sense of safety.

As discussed in the concept of the “secure attachment loop” in the first issue of *The Parenting Bridge*, children venture out to explore the world during the day and naturally return to their caregivers at night to seek a sense of security. This back-and-forth is a healthy and necessary part of development.

Why does sleep training work for some children but not for others?

In child development research, “temperament” has long been regarded as a key factor influencing a child’s ability to adapt to sleep. Child psychiatrists Thomas and Chess noted early in their research that children differ innately in the intensity of their reactions, their ability to adapt to new environments, and their tolerance for separation.

Some children are naturally more stable, react less strongly to change, adapt well to a fixed routine, and can tolerate brief separations. For these children, sleep training conducted in a gentle, structured manner often helps establish a sleep pattern more quickly. However, some children have a more sensitive temperament and react strongly to environmental changes and separation, requiring more physical contact and emotional responsiveness to build a sense of security. Research and clinical observations have shown that if such children are asked to “fall asleep on their own” before they are ready, they may stop crying outwardly—appearing to have adapted—while internally remaining in a state of high tension. This does not mean the child has learned to fall asleep, but rather that they have learned to stop seeking help.

Therefore, the issue has never been whether sleep training itself is right or wrong, but whether the method matches the child’s temperament. In developmental psychology, this is called “fit”—when caregiving aligns with a child’s innate traits, true learning and adaptation can occur. So, the question has never been “should we train them?” The truly important question is: Is this child ready? Can their temperament handle this separation? Do they already possess some self-soothing abilities? And does the caregiver still have the emotional bandwidth to continue responding? In immigrant families, sometimes we aren’t choosing a theory; we’re choosing a way that allows the whole family to keep going. There is no right or wrong in this.

In reality, many families take a middle path. For quite a few families, the most feasible approach is neither complete non-training nor endless soothing. Instead, it involves incorporating structure into their responses—a fixed bedtime routine, a predictable rhythm, and gradually reducing intervention as the child becomes ready. The child isn’t forced to learn how to sleep; rather, they slowly prepare themselves while being accompanied.

If you ask me about my personal choice, I’ll be honest—I’ve always leaned toward rocking her to sleep and co-sleeping. It’s not because I think this is the only correct way, but because I understand my child’s temperament, and I know that at that stage, I cared more about her sense of security than whether the method was “successful.”

I chose to be there for her when she needed me, and I believe that once she’s built up enough security, she’ll naturally be ready to let go.

Closing

Sleep training and rocking a child to sleep are neither right nor wrong. What truly matters is the child’s temperament, the family’s circumstances, and whether the caregiver receives adequate support. As immigrants, we often have to choose between our ideals and reality. As long as that choice is made with understanding, respect, and love, it deserves to be affirmed. May all parents around the world enjoy a good night’s sleep.

About the Author
Chloe Wong

Chloe Wong is an immigrant mother and speech pathologist based in Melbourne. She is the founder of Blackburn Speech & Paediatric Therapy, a bilingual multidisciplinary clinic supporting children and families from culturally and linguistically diverse backgrounds.

Having worked closely with immigrant families for many years, Chloe believes that while grandparents and parents may differ in approach, their intention is the same — to give the next generation a better life.

Through this column, she brings together research-informed insights and practical strategies to build bridges between generations, helping love translate into meaningful, effective support for children.

Follow her on Instagram: @phd.speechie.mum 

What Are We Really Weighing When Choosing Between Sleep Training and Rocking Them to Sleep?

“Do I really have to do sleep training for my child to fall asleep on their own?”

“If I don’t train them, will they need to be rocked to sleep for the rest of their life?”

These are questions I hear almost every week at the clinic. And in Australia, this issue often comes with an added layer of practical pressure.

With no domestic help and no grandparents on hand to assist, many parents work during the day and then face nighttime awakenings, bedtime routines, and chronic sleep deprivation alone at night. So, when energy and patience are completely drained, “sleep training” appears to be a way out that can get the family functioning again. This choice isn’t a sign of indifference, but rather the struggle and balancing act of immigrant families under real-world conditions.

Sleep training and soothing are not black-and-white issues. Parents who support sleep training are not unloving; they are simply exhausted. And parents who choose to soothe their children are not being indulgent; they are sensitively attuned to the fact that what a child needs at night is companionship and a sense of security.

Behind both approaches lies the same underlying motivation: the hope that the child sleeps well, and that the adults can hold on.

For infants and toddlers, sleep is an experience of separation. From a developmental perspective, sleep is not merely physical rest but an experience tinged with separation. For young children, falling asleep symbolizes a temporary separation from their primary caregiver. Turning off the lights, lying down, and the room gradually falling silent—this sequence of changes is, in itself, enough to trigger anxiety in some children. This explains why some children who seem independent and able to explore freely during the day become particularly clingy at night. This is not a regression; rather, in the darkness and silence, their nervous systems require a renewed sense of security.

As discussed in the concept of the “secure attachment loop” in the first issue of *The Parenting Bridge*, children venture out to explore the world during the day and naturally return to their caregivers at night to seek a sense of security. This back-and-forth is a healthy and necessary part of development.

Why does sleep training work for some children but not for others?

In child development research, “temperament” has long been regarded as a key factor influencing a child’s ability to adapt to sleep. Child psychiatrists Thomas and Chess noted early in their research that children differ innately in the intensity of their reactions, their ability to adapt to new environments, and their tolerance for separation.

Some children are naturally more stable, react less strongly to change, can adapt to a fixed routine, and tolerate brief separations. For these children, sleep training conducted in a gentle, structured manner often helps establish a sleep pattern more quickly. However, some children have a more sensitive temperament and react strongly to environmental changes and separation, requiring more physical contact and emotional responsiveness to build a sense of security. Research and clinical observations have shown that if such children are asked to “fall asleep on their own” before they are ready, they may stop crying outwardly—appearing to adapt—while internally remaining in a state of high tension. This does not mean the child has learned to fall asleep, but rather that they have learned to stop seeking help.

Therefore, the issue has never been whether sleep training itself is right or wrong, but whether the method matches the child’s temperament. In developmental psychology, this is called “fit”—when caregiving aligns with a child’s innate traits, true learning and adaptation can occur. So, the question has never been “should we train them?” The truly important question is: Is this child ready? Can their temperament handle this separation? Do they already possess a certain ability to self-soothe? And does the caregiver still have the emotional bandwidth to continue responding? In immigrant families, sometimes we aren’t choosing a theory; we’re choosing a way that allows the whole family to keep going. There is no right or wrong in this.

In reality, many families take a middle path. For quite a few families, the most feasible approach is neither complete non-training nor endless soothing. Instead, it involves incorporating structure into their responses—a fixed bedtime routine, a predictable rhythm, and gradually reducing intervention as the child becomes ready. The child isn’t forced to learn how to sleep; rather, they slowly become ready through the support and companionship provided.

If you ask me about my personal choice, I’ll be honest—I’ve always leaned toward rocking her to sleep and co-sleeping. It’s not because I think this is the only right way, but because I understand my child’s temperament, and I know that at that stage, I cared more about her sense of security than whether the method was “successful.”

I chose to be there for her when she needed me, and I believe that once she’s built up enough security, she’ll naturally be ready to let go.

Closing

Sleep training and rocking a child to sleep are neither right nor wrong. What truly matters is the child’s temperament, the family’s circumstances, and whether the caregiver receives adequate support. As immigrants, we often have to choose between our ideals and reality. As long as that choice is made with understanding, respect, and love, it deserves to be affirmed. May all parents around the world enjoy a good night’s sleep.

About the Author: Chloe Wong
Chloe Wong is an immigrant mother and speech pathologist based in Melbourne. She is the founder of Blackburn Speech & Paediatric Therapy, a bilingual multidisciplinary clinic supporting children and families from culturally and linguistically diverse backgrounds.
Having worked closely with immigrant families for many years, Chloe believes that while grandparents and parents may differ in approach, their intention is the same — to give the next generation a better life.
Through this column, she brings together research-informed insights and practical strategies to build bridges between generations, helping love translate into meaningful, effective support for children.
Follow her on Instagram: @phd.speechie.mum