While scrolling through my phone, I stumbled upon this amazing community and decided to engage.
What really stood out to me was the wide variety of suggested topics available for discussion. Each one was so engaging that it took me hours to decide which to write about. After much reflection, I finally made my choice:
There is a child in my life who quietly reshaped the way I see the world—not through loud moments or clever words, but through presence. Through noticing. Through a kind of wisdom that does not try to impress, yet lingers long after the moment has passed.
Children see what adults often rush past. They listen without filters, love without strategy, and question without fear of appearing ignorant.
One afternoon, while I was delivering a long, adult-approved lecture about patience, this little human looked up at me and said, "If waiting makes people angry, why do adults tell children to do more?" Then she went back to her biscuit, leaving me emotionally unemployed. On yet another day, that child asked why grown-ups say they are fine when their eyes look tired. Those simple observations stayed with me. It reminded me how early we learn to hide our truth, and how naturally children live in it.
What strikes me most about the wisdom of littles is their emotional honesty. They feel fully. When they are happy, they glow. When they are hurt, they express it without shame. They do not minimize their emotions or apologize for having them. Watching this taught me that strength is not the absence of feeling, but the courage to acknowledge it.
Children also have a remarkable sense of fairness. They believe kindness should be natural, not negotiable. They expect consistency between words and actions. In their world, love is something you show, not something you explain away. That expectation quietly challenges the adult tendency to rationalize behavior that does not align with our values.
This child has taught me that wisdom does not always come from experience or age. Sometimes it comes from innocence, clarity, and the ability to remain present. In listening to a child, I have learned to slow down, to speak more truthfully, and to see the world not as something to control, but as something to understand.
The wisdom of littles reminds us of who we were—before life taught us to edit ourselves.
SEE YOU NEXT TIME.
