This write-up is a direct repeat of the podcast audio for those who prefer to read. Whether you choose to listen or read, the content is the same—so go with what works best for you!
Saturday was a relaxing day. I'm thankful for this because sleep has not been coming easy as of late.
My son, Aidyn, and I are lounging on the couch. He's playing a game, and I'm engrossed in Ta-Nehisi Coates' A Beautiful Struggle. The book is a deeply honest and open coming-of-age story. I'm not sure where it will go. But for now, we're in Baltimore, Maryland, at the peak of the crack epidemic. Ta-Nehisi describes a shift among his siblings, where fighting for a voice in their home quickly becomes a fight for survival in their own neighborhood. I’m all in—lost in a scene where his older brother seems to take a different path, stepping into something that will surely lead to chaos.
Then… Aidyn says: “Mom, you should switch books.”
Now, Aidyn knows me well. He knows I can be reading anywhere from three to six books at a time, happily leaping between worlds. But this time, I’m reluctant to leave the one I’m in. The world Ta-Nehisi has crafted has a pull I don’t want to release.
I look up, and Aidyn is handing me my Bible. To be honest, this is not the kind of read I had in mind. 😂 Still, I can see it in his eyes—he wants to be read to.
So, I shift. I open to Genesis, Book 1, and begin reading about creation. What follows is unexpected: a conversation about natural disasters. Aidyn starts asking questions about why wildfires happen, which leads us to talk about the fires in LA. As we talked, my heart turned to the families affected by these fires—their loss, their resilience. Sending prayers for healing and strength to those still recovering. 🙏🏾
I didn’t realize how much he had been holding onto: thoughts about the families impacted, the aftermath, and recovery. He had a lot to say, and I was struck by how his mind was piecing it all together—his own quiet reflections on a world that can sometimes feel unkind.
When we finished, he went up to his room, and I was left in deep thought.
What if I had told him: “No, thanks. I’m really into this book and want to keep going”?
What if I hadn’t modeled reading at all?
What if I hadn’t stayed open—to his questions, to his request, to the moment?
It’s easy to think these small moments don’t matter. That they’re just interruptions or distractions from what we planned to do. But what if they are the moments that matter most?
It can be hard to balance self-care and connection, especially when we’re already stretched thin. But I believe there’s power in staying open—in choosing to pause our world and step into theirs.
This week, I invite you to try it. Say yes when your child asks for your time, even if it feels inconvenient. And trust me, I know this isn’t always easy. Listen, even when you’re not sure how to respond. These moments—fleeting as they are—leave a lasting impression.
Because when we stay open, we teach our children that their thoughts matter, their voice matters, they matter.
What’s one time you stayed open and discovered something beautiful with your child? I’d love to hear your story.
Best,
Quinn 📚💕
P.S. If you’re inspired by this story and want to create more meaningful moments during reading time, download our FREE video + guide: "5 Simple Shifts to Transform Reading Time." It’s filled with practical ideas to help you connect, no matter how busy life gets.
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