The Magic of Saying Yes to Their World

It was one of those days. You know the kind, where the only phrase keeping your eye from twitching is “this too shall pass.” By noon, I was already running on fumes, hanging on by the emotional equivalent of a chewed-up rubber band. I looked at the clock, three more hours until school pick-up, and then the whirlwind dash to swimming. 

When I picked her up, she looked just as drained as I felt.

Instead of heading to swim class like clockwork, I found myself pulling into a park. Why? I still don’t know. Maybe it was instinct. Maybe it was a subconscious cry for help from my inner child. Either way, I unbuckled my 8-year-old and we wandered into a nearly empty playground in the hazy glow of early afternoon.

Let me tell you something no one warns you about in your 40s: playgrounds are a full-blown CrossFit session. As she joyfully flung herself across the monkey bars like a giggling acrobat, I tried to just hang from one bar. Just one. You’d think I was attempting a Navy SEAL obstacle course. My arms shook. My pride whimpered. In my head, I was gracefully swinging across the whole thing like her. In reality, I was basically a human keychain.

Then came a game of tag. I forgot how much pure fun there is in running around like a lunatic with zero purpose other than laughing. She chased me. I chased her. We collapsed in a heap, giggling like we had all the time in the world. 

Next up: a serious game of shop, which offered exactly three flavors of ice cream. I was just about to order the "gravelswirl" when my inner mom radar pinged. I spotted some kids practicing tennis nearby. Aha! Operation Sly Exposure to New Hobbies commenced.

“Hey, want to take a walk this way?” I asked innocently, like I wasn’t plotting her future as the next Serena Williams.

We meandered toward the courts, paused just long enough to observe, and… nope. Not today. My kid had other plans.

Suddenly, we were spies. Spying. From behind trees. On strangers. “Don’t let them see us!” she whispered dramatically, her eyes wide with glee. Our espionage adventure morphed into a nature hike before I realized what was happening. But not just any hike, oh no. A hike with surprise pauses.

Pause #1: To test if a chain-link fence could hold our weight.

Pause #2: To collect gumboils and leave a trail “in case we got lost.”

Pause #3: To stare silently at a patch of flowers, which almost broke me.

Just as I was reaching my edge, she turned around. A dandelion tucked behind one ear, wide eyes full of pride. “How do I look, Mama?”

Like a fairy. Like magic. Like something I want to remember forever.

And then she handed me a bouquet of wild dandelions. No card, no ribbon. Just tiny, sun-colored weeds turned into a gift by little hands that still believe everything is worth noticing.

So I stayed. I soaked it in. I let time slow down. Because just like the hard moments… this too shall pass.

And when it does, I want to remember the laughter, the dandelions, and that tiny spy who made even an ordinary Thursday feel like a fairytale.

So, here’s your gentle reminder (from one often-overwhelmed parent to another): savor the moment. Especially with your teens. It’s not always about the to-do lists, achievements, or structured activities. Sometimes, it’s about showing up, and showing interest.

Find interest in their interests. Play the games. Watch the shows. Make space for the randomness. Because when we let them lead, we see who they really are. And they feel seen.

One day, they’ll be off chasing their own adventures. And these wild, whimsical, completely unscheduled moments? They’ll be the ones you’ll want to hold onto the most.