Flow Like a Toddler

This is an adaptation of my weekly newsletter, Adventures Big & Small. If you want to receive emails like these, click here to subscribe.

If you’re looking for answers—concrete advice on parenting—this newsletter is rarely a good read. There’s a lot more “I’m confused” than “you should do this.”

Today is especially lacking in that department. The last few weeks with our toddler have filled me with both wonder and the kind of uncertainty I’m getting to know well as a parent.

She’s definitely hit the phase of testing boundaries—every single one she can find. But there’s another layer: acting as if she can’t hear us. I’m working to embrace it, and I’ll explain why.

She gets down from her high chair at dinner, picks up a flamingo stuffie, and starts telling a story about it going on an airplane to St. Thomas with all of our chickens. I’ll spare you the details, of which there are many.

“Maggie, are you all done with dinner?” Nothing.
“Maggie.” …
“And then they all waited in line for the airplane and the chickens had their bags and…”
“MAGGIE”…
“Then the captain said 3-2-1 blast-offffff”…
“MAAAAGGGGIIIIIEEEEEE” (putting a hand under her chin to get her to look at us)…
“I’m done. I’m all full of pasta.”

This has repeated itself one thousand times over the past few weeks. And for a while, I thought it was nothing more than an act of defiance—completely ignoring us. Pushing that boundary.

But at some point, we realized that if we just waited long enough, she would answer the question. We’re starting to realize that she’s actually just so deeply engaged in the imaginative world between her ears that whatever we’re asking simply has to wait.

And shouldn’t it?

This is flow state. Childhood meditation. Pure creative growth. It’s everything we say we want for our kids—and yet, I feel frustrated by (and maybe a little jealous of) that freedom to lose herself at the mere sight of a flamingo stuffie.

And also, there are plenty of times in our modern, hurried world when that state of being simply doesn’t work. A busy parking lot. The checkout line. Doing all the things it takes to actually get on that airplane to St. Thomas. Our world wasn’t built for timeless wandering.

So I guess the questions I’m left with are twofold –

One, how do we thoughtfully transition our children out of these beautiful places and into the hustle of reality? How do we help them hold that space for later—for a better time to return to it?

And two, how do we as parents find a little of this for ourselves? The irony is that modern parenting is so often the opposite of flow or meditation. It is logistics. But we also need to wander.

More questions than answers. Always. And yes, I’d love for you to click reply and share your wisdom :).

See you next week.