Sandwiched Club

Watching Master Focaccia get lost in a topic has become one of my favourite parental privileges. As a toddler, he was obsessed with space — learning about the Oort Cloud, asteroid belts, and suns hundreds of times larger than ours. Then came years of Pokémon madness and trading-card expertise. Minecraft? He memorised every crafting recipe and marketplace price. And now, Beyblade is a nightly saga, complete with character names and plot twists that rival Netflix dramas.

This isn’t just a hobby. These are signs of neurodivergent hyperfocus — something I now see as a real gift.

ADHD Fixation: The Hidden Strength
Kids with ADHD can become utterly absorbed in subjects that capture their interest. This state, often called hyperfocus, is experienced by about two-thirds of individuals with ADHD. When channelled well, it fuels creativity and deep skill-building.

Clinically, hyperfocus is described as tunnel vision — an intense, immersive concentration that leads to incredible output, but needs guidance and care to avoid burnout.

Focaccia’s Deep Dives: What We’ve Seen
Astronomy at four: He could tell us the Kuiper Belt lies just beyond Pluto’s orbit. I, on the other hand, barely knew where Pluto was.

Pokémon encyclopaedia: He knew the characters — types, strengths, weaknesses, rarity — by heart. But couldn’t remember all his classmates’ names. I honestly wish this could have extended to include his friends.

Minecraft scholar: He inspected crafting tables like a miner inspects rock. I sometimes wish this curiosity could carry over into real-life builds or chemistry — although maybe not the combustible kind.

Beyblade narrator: Even a car ride becomes a full-blown Beyblade plotline, with arcs and rivalries. When we restricted real Beyblade play, he made his own using Lego bricks. “These aren’t Beyblades. They are Lego spinners,” he said. And then he spent hours perfecting the spin.

He moves on when his interest burns out, but he always finds something else to explore. Not even our reward chart can derail his drive to pursue a passion.

Harnessing the Power
Hyperfocus isn’t the same as obsession. It’s a headspace where children like Focaccia thrive — if we support and guide them. Of course, without guardrails, it can mean skipped meals or lost sleep. But with our tools — timed breaks, reward charts, and reminders — it becomes an engine, not a derailment.

His fixation is different from what we adults call “passion.” At four, he knew more about asteroid fields than most grown-ups I know. It’s a bit worrying — are we drifting from what society deems useful? But also, deeply admirable. What if a life of curiosity is more rewarding than one lived by obligation?

Beyond the Obsession
Focaccia’s interests don’t end with games or screens. He also:

Loves science, especially hands-on experiments.

Builds Lego with the patience of a small-scale architect.

Sings freely, even in public — no stage fright there.

Knows what doesn’t click — sports and musical instruments don’t hold his attention, and academic drills feel like chores.

That level of clarity in preference is rare, even among adults. He’s not just discovering interests — he’s defining them.

The Road Ahead
Supporting Focaccia means seeing that fixation — a common ADHD trait — as a route to excellence.

I do worry: will we accidentally box him in by focusing too much on his passions? But then I hear him talk about planetary orbits or Pokémon evolutions with such joy, and I think — if we could bottle that drive, it would power cities.

As AI gradually takes over knowledge-based white-collar roles, the ability to dream, problem-solve, and dive deep might just be the new frontier. Maybe our kids, so fearless in their focus, will lead the way.

Fixation, Framed
Set gentle guardrails: Timers help. But so does patience. We remind him gently — and accept that he needs reminding.

Connect interest to learning: Minecraft becomes a geometry class in disguise.

Celebrate the dive: “Tell me more about that” is now a regular phrase at our dinner table.

Focaccia’s fixation is still a work in progress — a beautiful, sometimes challenging, but ultimately promising power. As he grows, I hope he learns to apply that same focus to broader goals — from games to growth, from stars to studies, from story arcs to real aspirations.

Because real learning isn’t about memorising facts. It’s about learning how to love learning. And in that, I think, lies our children’s future.