The other night, after tucking both kids into bed, I lingered in Nate’s room while Sasha drifted off across the way. Bedtime has become the one moment of the day when Nate opens up. Most of the time, getting him to talk about school or his feelings is like pulling teeth. But right before sleep, when the house is finally quiet, he softens. That’s when the little snippets of his inner world start to spill out.
That night, after some small talk about his day, he asked me a question that caught me completely off guard:
“Is our nanny coming tomorrow?”
“Yes,” I answered. “Why do you ask?”
His reply stung in a way I didn’t expect.
“Well, I love when she comes because she plays with me. You don’t really play with me.”
Oof. Cue the defensive mom reflex.
The Invisible Work of Motherhood
In my head, I instantly wanted to shout back: But I do so much for you! I pack his lunches with little notes. I arrange after-school activities. I hug him constantly. I plan dinners, snacks, and outings. I run myself ragged making sure he’s cared for, healthy, and loved. Isn’t all of that playing, in its own way?
But of course, he’s right.
The truth is, while I’ve always been confident that my children feel my love in the everyday acts of care, I hadn’t really thought about whether I was meeting them on their terms. As an adult, I understand that love comes in many forms. But to a six-year-old, love often looks like a parent sitting cross-legged on the floor, cars in hand, building Lego towers side by side.
It hurt to hear, but it was also the reminder I didn’t know I needed.
Getting on Their Level
I’ve followed enough child psychologists and parenting experts to know this is not a new revelation: children want us to engage with them in their world. It doesn’t have to be for hours. Even a few minutes can make them feel seen, heard, and valued.
Keith, my husband, has always been better at this than me. I hate to generalize, but sometimes I wonder if dads are just wired differently in this department. He’s the one who easily gets down on the rug, fully invested in Lego battles or superhero missions. Meanwhile, I’ve never been the mom who loves toy cars or elaborate pretend games.
But that night, Nate’s honesty pushed me to reimagine what “play” could look like in our relationship. The next morning, I suggested a round of Monopoly Jr. before school. For thirty minutes, the three of us sat together—rolling dice, buying properties, and navigating the inevitable “you can’t always win” talks that come with board games. Later that day, I ordered a stack of new family-friendly games: Guess Who, UNO, and Mexican Train Dominoes. Suddenly, I had found my lane. I might not be a Lego mom, but I can absolutely be a board game mom.
More Than Just Caretaking
That night’s conversation was such a wake-up call. It reminded me that parenting isn’t just about keeping our kids fed, clothed, and safe. Those things matter, of course—they are the foundation. But what kids often crave most is our presence in the things that matter to them.
For Nate, that means play. Not elaborate trips or big gestures, but those everyday moments of getting on the floor and letting him lead. For me, it’s about finding ways to join in that feel authentic. A round of cards, a puzzle spread across the dining table, a silly competition—we both get to connect, and I don’t feel like I’m forcing myself into something I dread.
Listening Without Defending
The hardest part of this experience wasn’t the sting of his words—it was resisting the urge to explain myself. When someone we love tells us they need more, it’s natural to want to justify, to point out all the things we already do. But when I step back, I realize that what Nate really needed was for me to listen without argument.
Kids have such a simple way of cutting through our layers of busyness and ego. They don’t measure love in packed lunches or laundry loads. They measure it in the moments we spend beside them. Hearing Nate’s perspective was a reminder that love is not just about what we do, but about how those efforts land with the people we’re doing them for.
Moving Forward
I know this won’t be the last time Nate (or Sasha, in her own way) tells me what they need. And honestly, I’m grateful. It’s not easy to hear that we’re falling short in some areas, but those moments of honesty are gifts. They help us grow into the kind of parents we want to be.
That night reminded me that parenting is not just about the work we put in behind the scenes—it’s about meeting our kids where they are. Sometimes that means making dinner and washing soccer uniforms. And sometimes it means sitting cross-legged on the floor, dice in hand, letting them beat you at Monopoly Jr.
