The Last Analog Childhood

The other day my three-year-old asked me why the moon was following our car.

I gave him my best dad answer, something about perspective and distance that I was pretty proud of.

He looked out the window for another ten seconds and said, "No... I think it's just being nice."

Honestly?

His explanation was better.

That's become my favorite part of having little kids. They don't know the rules yet, so they don't know what's impossible. They ask questions adults stopped asking years ago.

It also hit me recently that my boys will never know a world without AI.

Not "AI" as a buzzword. They won't care about that. They won't remember ChatGPT, or Claude, or whichever model wins this month's internet argument. They won't know what prompt engineering was or why grown adults spent two years debating whether AI belonged in the workplace.

To them, intelligence will just... exist.

Like Wi-Fi.

Or GPS.

Or electricity.

My dad remembers when calculators showed up in classrooms. I remember when Google felt like magic. My kids will grow up wondering why anyone thought talking to a computer was remarkable.

One day they'll probably ask me, "Wait... you used to write every email yourself?"

The same way I ask my parents why they printed directions off MapQuest.

Every generation has one of those moments.

This is ours.

Which means I don't think my job as a leader is teaching people how to use AI.

The tools will change too quickly for that to matter.

My job is building teams that know how to think when everyone has access to extraordinary intelligence.

That's a much harder problem.

For the last twenty years, hiring often rewarded expertise. We looked for people who knew the software, understood the platform, or had mastered the craft.

I'm not convinced that's enough anymore.

When everyone has access to incredible tools, expertise starts becoming the baseline.

Curiosity becomes the differentiator.

So does judgment.

So does taste.

So does the ability to ask an interesting question instead of simply finding a quick answer.

Ironically, AI is making me care more about the things that make us human.

Not less.

I've stopped asking whether someone is "good at AI."

That's like asking whether someone is good at electricity.

I'm much more interested in whether they're curious. Whether they notice things other people miss. Whether they make connections between ideas that don't obviously belong together. Whether they can sit with ambiguity long enough to find something original.

Because those are the people who will keep getting better no matter what the technology does next.

The funny thing is, my kids probably won't think AI is the defining technology of their generation.

It'll just be the wallpaper.

They'll have their own version of this conversation about something we can't even imagine yet.

Maybe quantum computing.

Maybe synthetic biology.

Maybe something none of us have named.

And I hope when that day comes, they're not the smartest people in the room.

I hope they're the most curious.

I hope they're the ones asking better questions.

I hope they still believe the moon is following the car because it's being nice.

Because intelligence is becoming abundant.

Wonder is not.

The models will keep getting smarter.

I'm far more interested in raising, and leading, people who never stop being curious.