Colman Noctor: Six-seven! 'Brain-rot' chants are children's smart way to connect

‘Brain-rot’ phrases are not limited to ‘six-seven’. Variations of this trend include ‘Sigma’ and ‘Skibidi Toilet’, among others. So why are children using codified language that adults cannot understand?

IF YOU’VE recently overheard a group of children chanting ‘six-seven!’, whether in a supermarket, a playground, or during a maths class, you’ve witnessed the latest viral ‘brain-rot’ craze. The phrase, originating from a TikTok audio clip, now populates school corridors and family homes.

Some teachers have prohibited it, parents have groaned about it, and social media has dubbed it a sign of our collective attention span collapse.

‘Brain-rot’ phrases are not limited to ‘six-seven’. Variations of this trend include ‘Sigma’ and ‘Skibidi Toilet’, among others. So why are children using codified language that adults cannot understand?

It’s often about autonomy and control. Children spend so much of their lives under the authority of adults (teachers, parents, and caregivers) that they enjoy discovering or inventing phrases that give them a sense of independence. It’s a way of saying, ‘There’s a world that belongs to us’, and this control of communication can feel empowering.

Group identity and belonging are important to children. Secret codes or slang often serve as social glue, or shared insider knowledge that helps children bond with their peers and mark who’s ‘in’ or ‘out’ of the group. This satisfies a deep developmental need for belonging and peer acceptance, especially as they move towards adolescence.

Codified language could also aid cognitive development. As children grow, they develop meta-linguistic awareness, the understanding that language is flexible and can be manipulated. Creating and using code words exercises this skill, demonstrating increasing cognitive sophistication and creativity.

It is also a way to explore social boundaries at home or in school. A secret language enables children to test the boundaries between dependence and rebellion safely. It’s a low-risk way to challenge adult control and experiment with privacy and secrecy.

While these trends exist for both genders, they seem more popular among boys. Perhaps because for many boys, mastering this coded slang is a flex. It shows you’re fluent in an exclusive online culture. It’s a form of “digital masculinity,” where being well-versed in online trends of memes becomes part of identity. Boys and young men also often bond through shared humour and in-group codes more than girls.

A secret language

Transforming nonsense in to shared currency is exciting for children. It’s play in its purest form: Linguistic, social, and performative. It converts the abstract world in to something tangible, communal, and its theirs.

In classrooms, or in my case, football training, managing the hilarity that ensues around any mention of the numbers six and seven can be challenging. Yet I can see how this phenomenon reveals something about how the developing brain processes novelty, rhythm, and social belonging.

Adults refer to ‘brain rot’ as shorthand for the seemingly mindless consumption of viral content, those quick, repetitive sounds and trends that fill every scroll and spare second.

But from a developmental psychology perspective, these bursts of cultural noise are more than mere distractions: They are practice grounds for vital cognitive and social skills.

Children have always enjoyed linguistic nonsense, from nursery rhymes to playground chants (‘Oggy oggy oggy!’). These chants play a vital role: They extend working memory, enhance rhythm, and help them learn how words feel as much as what they mean.

‘Six-seven’ fits this tradition. It’s rhythmic, meaningless, and repeatable, often accompanied by a hand gesture akin to how we might communicate ‘either/ or’. It’s a linguistic sandbox where children explore phonetics and timing. What looks like silliness is actually a form of phonological play, an essential building block for language mastery and creativity.

Such chants or phrases also form a means of social synchrony and belonging.

The human brain is wired for synchrony, the natural pleasure of doing something together in time. When children chant ‘six-seven’ in unison, they’re not just causing disruption; they’re practising one of the oldest ways of social bonding. Neuroscientists call this social mirroring: Aligning words and movements with others, which releases dopamine and oxytocin, reinforcing group cohesion.

It also provides avenues for humour and absurdity. To adults, these memes often seem foolish. But absurd humour is a sophisticated mental tool. When children enjoy the nonsensical, they are exercising their growing prefrontal cortex and exploring the limits of logic and incongruity.

Laughter at what seems meaningless helps children to navigate ambiguity, irony, and contradiction, all of which are higher-level thinking abilities. What appears to be ‘brain rot’ might actually be training in cognitive flexibility: The ability to tolerate nonsense and enjoy patternless play.

Cultural ownership

Gen Alfa (children under 14) live in an attention economy that promotes novelty and hyper-stimulation. They crave ‘brain rot’, not because they are weak-willed, but because their brains are wired to seek connection and meaning amid the noise.

The ‘six-seven’ trend is a collective act of reclaiming control. Children take a meaningless sound and give it significance through repetition and community. It’s a form of cultural ownership.

When adults dismiss it as ‘brain rot’, they risk overlooking the deeper story: This is a way children process an overwhelming digital world. Through repetition, mimicry, and absurd humour, they turn information overload in to social experience.

Of course, ‘brain rot’ isn’t harmless in all cases. The same mechanisms that make these trends so captivating —rhythmic reward, quick imitation, and emotional contagion — can also hijack focus and break down boundaries.

When a child hears peers shouting ‘six-seven’ during a lesson, the brain’s mirror neurons activate. The urge to join in feels irresistible, not because the child is defiant, but because imitation is the default way of social learning.

It’s why these memes can feel like epidemics: The combination of digital virality and biological mimicry creates a perfect storm of contagious behaviour.

The challenge for parents and teachers is not to suppress it entirely, but to put it into context, so we can help children understand when and where it’s appropriate to engage that impulse.

Understanding ‘the why?’

So how can we parent during the ‘brain rot’ phase?

Firstly, acknowledge, don’t dismiss. When your child starts repeating ‘six-seven’ or another viral phrase, resist the urge to roll your eyes. Instead, get curious. Say: ‘Where did that come from?’ or ‘What’s funny about it?’

Here, you signal respect for their social world, which, in turn, makes them more receptive to guidance.

Try to use it as a teaching tool. Memes are perfect opportunities to discuss context. Ask, ‘When is it funny? When might it be distracting?’ These discussions help children develop situational awareness and build a core executive function that supports self-regulation and empathy.

Establishing shared norms rather than banning outright. Banning every meme or catchphrase makes them more tempting. Instead, collaboratively set boundaries: “At home or after school is fine. During dinner or class, not so much.” Framing it as a matter of respect, rather than restriction, encourages self-regulation.

Strive to be compassionate towards the underlying, more profound needs that might be present. Sometimes ‘brain-rot’ behaviour indicates boredom, anxiety, or a desire for connection. If your child becomes fixated on trends to the exclusion of other activities, ask what need the behaviour fulfils. Is it social bonding? A sense of control? Attention? Understanding the ‘why’ makes your response more effective than simple discipline.

Every generation has experienced its own silly trends. In the 1980s, it was clapping games and song parodies. In the 2000s, it was ‘The Crazy Frog.’ What has changed is the speed and scope.

The internet doesn’t just generate fads; it compresses time, enabling millions of children to join the same game simultaneously. Yet, the underlying developmental needs remain timeless: Belonging, play, and the delight of nonsense. What appears as decline might be adaptation, with the brain learning to navigate a faster, louder sea of information.

When a child joins a viral chant, they practise the lifelong skill of understanding collective behaviour. Today, it’s ‘six-seven’. Tomorrow, it might be political slogans, cultural trends, or workplace jargon (‘blue sky thinking’; ‘thinking outside the box’; ‘circling back’). The way they learn to navigate these waves — to join, to refrain, to laugh — begins in the playground echo of a meaningless phrase.

So, don’t fear the rot; guide it.

As parents, we are justified in worrying about attention spans and digital overload. But we should distinguish the content of these crazes from the process they embody. The ‘brain rot’ process of imitation, experimentation, and collective humour is evidence of a timeless developmental trend.

Next time ‘six-seven’ echoes from the back seat, pause before you despair. Underneath the noise, your child is exploring social rhythm, language, and identity. Your role is to help them use those developing skills of humour, context and empathy more thoughtfully and in the right social moments.

What appears to be rot is often actually growth, simply occurring in a dialect we have not yet learned to appreciate.