Recently, we spent a few days at the beach. Whilst we were there, our days were enjoyed together. The days were filled with splashing in the ocean, making sand angels and thrones, and going four-wheel driving. Nothing particularly extraordinary really happens on our holidays, however, every moment is something I love being a part of.

We have many choices in life, and one that I choose to believe, is that our children are not a barrier to the life we want to live. They never have been because they are the fundamental part of it, that leads me to not require a need to wait for more freedom or more time to come in the future. To me they are the focal point of my life; the reason for being.

As an early childhood professional, all of the theories around development that I respect dearly have led me to certain beliefs, so has my own upbringing, and that is why when I attended a lesson with my children recently, I noticed something. After spending my days as a stay-at-home-mum immersed in the ordinary moments of family life, I found myself watching the children around me and thinking about how much they look to us for connection. The observation was that of several parents and grandparents sitting on their phones whilst their children repeatedly looked towards them. When the children did not receive a response or acknowledgement, their behaviour became increasingly disruptive. They seemed to be looking for a reaction, and when it didn't come, they tried again. It made me think about how often behaviour can be a search for connection.

This is certainly not to say that parents need to give their children their undivided attention every minute of the day. We all know that this is not possible, especially with everything that is required from us within society. Children also do not need or benefit from this approach in the long-term, as they require independence, and there are plenty of times when we simply can't stop what we are doing to accommodate their every want or need (Ginsburg, 2007).

To be perfectly candid, our days are not always calm, however they are always filled with best intentions. Children are little beings that become tired, frustrated and overwhelmed, and sometimes behaviour needs to be corrected and boundaries need to be held. It is the connection that happens before these moments that matters most.

When children consistently feel seen and know that their parents are genuinely interested in them, they have a stronger emotional foundation from which to manage difficult moments (Hough, 2025). Connection is not a way of removing boundaries or expectations, instead it is the foundation that we continually build to solidify and support them. I think this is part of why I value our time together so much because it is never about constantly entertaining our children or being involved in everything that they do in a physical sense. Truly, it is about creating a relationship with them, where they know that we are interested in who they are, and that we are actively listening (Embrace Care, 2026).

When we are present and genuinely happy with being around our children, whether at the beach or at a lesson, even simply looking up from whatever else we are consumed by unnecessarily and acknowledge they are there, the feeling of pressure could lift, behaviour may settle and happiness possibly will ensue.

Our children should never be seen as a barrier to life.

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References:

Ginsburg, K. R. (2007). The importance of play in promoting healthy child development and maintaining strong parent-child bonds. Pediatrics.

Hough, L. (2025). When kids feel they matter, they do better in life. Harvard Graduate School of Education.

Embrace Care. (2026). Supporting children through active listening.

I have written about how familiar routines can act as a safe guard, particularly when life feels unsettled or disruptions occur. Another focus I have had in my publication has been around movement and how it supports children to learn, regulate and build their inner capacities. For me as an educator and mama, boundaries sit alongside these foundations in such a fundamental way.

Our world is complex and filled with intricacies, and due to this, our children are constantly learning how their world works and where they fit within it. They need to understand what is expected of them, and how this applies in real life situations. Firm and consistent boundaries provide this clarity, whilst high expectations communicate that we believe children are capable of learning and developing these skills.

A boundary should never be about controlling a child's emotions. It should instead, be about providing a clear limit within which they can safely experience those emotions.

High expectations is a term that usually adds an instant pressure point for some. When I mention high expectations I am not insinuating that we should expect children to manage things beyond their developmental capacity or add more pressure. I am stating a firm belief that I have always held, which is that recognising children's capabilities is important, and that supporting them towards achieving the highest outcomes that they are capable of meeting developmentally is vitally important for holistic learning and growth.

Expecting a child to learn a skill does not mean expecting them to know how to apply that knowledge instantaneously. As educators and parents, we are those who should hold the expectation, whilst providing the scaffolding that our children need to reach it. High expectations and high support should be cohesive. I believe that this is where education and behaviour come together. Understanding a child's behaviour does not mean allowing for every behaviour. As parents and educators, we should know our children well enough to recognise when they are tired, overwhelmed or experiencing a big emotion, whilst still holding and setting clear boundaries. These foundations provide stability and safety for all individuals. Children will, and should endeavour to test boundaries that we set. This is not necessarily a sign that we need to become firmer, it is normally an aspect of learning.

When a child does become dysregulated and their behaviour changes due to this, our response does not need to become bigger, it should remain consistent. As an adult models regulation, acknowledges the emotions of the child, and holds the expectation fairly, they are providing the foundations that will model regulation and support for the future. For example, a child can be angry, as this emotion is important to acknowledge, as well as the multitude that are probably swirling with it. However, we can still expect them not to become aggressive and hurt someone. They can be disappointed, and we can still hold the boundaries that have been set.

Not every boundary needs a consequence attached to it. Natural consequences are shown to be the more beneficial form. Not punitive approaches, but natural consequences that show the reaction and outcomes clearly within the moment. The most powerful teaching is simply the repeated experience of an adult calmly holding the same expectation. Children learn through these repeated experiences, and through our modelling. The environment that we create, these foundations that we form, children learn that boundaries are predictable and provide reassurance because of this.

Just as routines provide a familiar sequence to a child's day, boundaries help provide a familiar understanding of their world. Clear high expectations provide the important element of informing your child that they are capable, and they can meet this, as they have our support to do so.

The goal should honestly never be to have perfect behaviour constantly. Behaviour communicates where our children's regulation and understandings are at. Our goal should be to help our children to gradually develop their capacity to navigate emotions, relationships and the expectations of the world around them.

Routines give children a sense of what comes next. Movement gives their developing bodies and brains opportunities to regulate and explore. Boundaries give them a sense of what is expected and what is safe. None of these foundations are about creating perfect children. They are about creating an environment in which children can gradually develop the internal capacity to navigate a complex world, whilst feeling loved, supported and secure.

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I find that it is hard to keep our normal routine when their bodies require different supports, especially when I become sick too. When children are unwell, their emotional and behavioural needs can change. Sometimes the things they would normally manage suddenly feel much harder, and I think it is important to recognise that their bodies are asking for something different.

For us, this is where the routines we have previously established become so imperative.

I am a very controlled and precise person. I have to have things methodical and analysed for my processing to happen in a calm manner. My children seem to have this too, either through nature or nurture, and because of this, we all flourish with a simple structure for our day and familiar routines, even when an alternative circumstance occurs.

Importantly though, routine, for us is not about everything happening perfectly. It is really about having the foundations that we can return to.

When our children are sick we do keep to our routines, but we adjust what those routines look like. We might have more rest, slower days and fewer expectations (whilst still maintaining high standards). The structure remains, but the demands within it can change to accommodate. I like to think of routines as a safety net for children, as well as for adults.

When children are dealing with the behavioural and emotional changes that can come with ill health, there is comfort in knowing that some things haven't changed. What they know does not suddenly disappear because they are having a difficult day. And now, as we recover, we are not trying to return to everything at once. We are working towards the simplest of tasks. Such as making sure we are eating and hydrating well, getting outside to regulate naturally, and resting when our bodies need it. Then we slowly reintroduce learning opportunities and the things that make up our usual days. We work towards bedtime routines flowing again and the rouyines of our home becoming familiar.

There is something about coming out of sickness that reminds me that the foundations matter more than the extras. When everyone is recovering our focus is on health restoration. I like to focus on the individual needs of my children and allow the rest to gradually find its place again. I don't think routines need to be rigid to be valuable. Sometimes they simply give us something familiar to return to, and that is a strong foundation for young children.

When our children are not feeling like themselves, having parts of their world that still feel familiar can be one of the most effective ways in which we can support them. When we discuss resetting our family, we are not talking about doing more and adding more requirements to an already busy home. It simply means returning to the things that have always held us together cohesively, restoring the family to holistic health.

As a teacher with experience in the early years, as well as a mother, I have come to see movement as an important part of how children learn, regulate, and understand their world around them.

As parents, we want the best for our children, and that sometimes means that we push them further than we intend.

It is crucial that if we are pushing our children, that we are doing it for their best interests, and not just to be a part of a society that thinks we need to keep moving forward in a way that is not reflective of a supportive environment for children.

It can feel as though children in this day and age are being pushed towards more sedentary behaviour. This may not be intentional, however, commuting in vehicles, requiring to go to different venues, engaging in activities that reduce physical requirements, can all contribute to this, as well as the use of technology.

Due to this, we can find ourselves spending less time moving, less time outdoors, and less time engaging with what truly makes childhood magical, which is being able to explore and learn through our natural environment, our third teacher.

I have spent many of my classroom hours observing children with various levels of natural energy. This is not intended as a negative, it is just that some children have more energy and that they are more attuned to being outside in nature. These children, like most, need that time to be out in the calmness and to feel grounded, so as to reset.

I think when children are outside, they are provided with so much more empowerment. They are relaxed and calm, and it is because of this that they are able to ground themselves and be ready for the next stage of learning or their day in general. Some teachers use the term, “brain-breaks” to describe an opportunity for children to pause, refocus, and move to reactivate concentration. This is the foundation for the concept.

We don't always give our children enough time to do this; to relax, find their inner equilibrium and just be. It is because of this that I feel we can be providing a disservice to them. Our children need opportunities to be outside, to move, to reset and to feel grounded so they can function in such a high-moving society.

We are not slowing down. Society is not slowing down. Advancements are occurring rapidly and we are using lots of different platforms to support us to do this, but I think in doing so, we are moving away from the simplest of things that makes learning and life so much more valuable.

We are pushing children to go into so many different activities, which, admittedly, I do with my own, because there is societal pressure to do so. I do not want them missing out, or possibly, I fear the guilt of having them miss out.

Even in saying this though, I make sure that my children are doing it for the right reasons, in my mind.

Will it benefit them in the future?

Is it supporting them right now?

Is it a skill that they require to be safe?

Are they learning it because it is something that is empowering for them and engages them?

Do they enjoy it?

Fundamentally, it comes down to that last one for me. Do my children enjoy what they are doing? Simply, because it is their childhood. Yes, it is my motherhood, but it is not my childhood again.

As most parents do, I want to provide my children with the best opportunities in life. I do not see any other form apart from making sure that they are given those opportunities, however, when it becomes performative, that's when we withdraw.

We focus on making sure that our children are enabled to succeed, though success is in a manner that supports their agency and their autonomy.

Our children need to enjoy what they are doing, and they need to have passion in their lives. Not everything is going to be enjoyable, and some things are required. Fundamentally, they are learning, and all learning should come down to a play-based nature, especially in the early years age range.

This is where play and movement become so important.

By being able to become bored and explore, and use our brains in ways that they are intended to be used is something that we are starting to miss. The sedentary behaviour aspect. We can feel like we need to fill every void and make sure that children are given everything that is expected by society at this point. The newest devices for example. Consider, however, what would happen if they did not have these forms of things? Would adverse behaviours decrease? Would emotions become more regulated?

Sometimes just a cardboard box can make a difference. Sometimes just being outside and playing, just exploring through the great outdoors is the greatest activity that we can schedule.

It doesn't take much to provide our children with something other than sedentary tasks and activities, because sitting still is not what our bodies were designed for. I think most people would like to be moving around and exploring. Our children are no different, they need to move, become bored, and use their brains in ways that they were designed for.

Children need to have opportunities to find out what they enjoy, what they are capable of, and what gives them passion. Sometimes that doesn't come from another organised activity, and it most definitely doesn't come from sedentary behaviour. It comes from movement, from being outside, and from play. Sometimes it comes from having nothing planned at all.

Success is not about how much we can give our children or how many opportunities we can fit into their childhood. Success is creating an environment where children can develop agency, autonomy, and passion, whilst still allowing them to simply be children.

For me, that is what I want for my children. Not a childhood that is filled with everything, so as to become crowded, instead, a childhood that gives them the opportunity to discover themselves, move freely, play deeply, and ultimately, to grow.

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Whenever we are in the presence of our children, they are always watching us. This is not intended in a way that should elicit a feeling of guilt. Instead we should see it in a way that reminds us of the incredible responsibility and privilege that we hold, as parents. Before our children understand any of the advice that we bestow upon them, they are learning from the lives in which we live before them.

Young children are incredibly connected and attuned to their environments. Due to this, they observe patterns prior to understanding explanations, as well as this, they recognise the tone that we use before they recognise the content of our messages. A picture is worth one thousand words is probably the literary language that provides a nice visual image of the messaging here. Children are constantly asking questions without even requiring the words associated.

Just through general observations of our actions or mannerisms, children form questions within their minds. They may be considering our responses to situations, or how they may be perceived to respond. Though verbal communication may not be occurring, deeper cognitive sequencing is definitely happening. The answers that our children are seeking to these questions that they are forming are rarely spoken in the verbal sense. Through the smallest moments within our lives, we demonstrate these answers either intentionally or unintentionally. Due to this, we cannot reduce early learning to what we intentionally are teaching our children, rather we should be considering the environment that is shaping our children.

Often, as parents we focus on the lessons that we want to teach our children. Whilst this has merit in most circumstances, we may forget that some of the most important lessons are never planned, they are happening without intention, just simply through our interactions and associations. Every ordinary moment of our lives is teaching our children something. Just by waving to a neighbour, admitting to a mistake, or admiring a rainbow after the rain has disappeared, these little moments can have big impacts on impressionable minds.

Learning does not just occur when children are sitting at a table with a pencil and paper in hand. It is happening through the words we choose to use, and the manner in which we live our lives. Our children notice whether we put our phones down during conversations, and they notice how we speak about ourselves, as well as others. The mannerisms and social behaviours that we display are observable, transferable, and internalised by growing minds. Whilst these moments may appear as ordinary to us, they become a part of the foundations that we are laying for our children to build their understanding of the world upon.

If we as parents believe that learning only happens during designated moments, we will often feel the pressure to create more of them. Good intentions may be in play, but more activities, structure and opportunities cannot replace the learning that is already taking place continuously. Instead of our focus being on the latter, we can move away from the adding aspect, and towards the noticing. Through noticing, children recognise how routines are experienced, and how our efforts, patience, and attention are modelled in our everyday lives.

This awareness does not require perfection, instead it only requires presence. Something that can be so easily given. We discuss intentional parenting in many early childhood discourses, and of course, what it really looks like. Intentional parenting is not about controlling every experience or turning family life into a carefully planned program. It is about recognising that within our daily lives there are already rich opportunities to learn. When we acknowledge this, we can then gently shape those moments so that they reflect the values which we hope our children will carry with them long after their childhood years have concluded.

Maybe the greatest reminder that we should hold for ourselves is not that our children are always watching us, instead it is that they are always learning from us. Within every act of kindness, moment of patience, and every expression of gratitude that we display in front of our children, they are being enriched with lifelong lessons that model a childhood in the best form. Modelling perfection should never be the goal. All we need to be able to model is the kind of life that we hope they will one day choose for themselves.

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Children are our greatest gifts and our greatest responsibilities. They are who will lead our futures, form decisions to make change, and hopefully grow up knowing their own self-worth. Somewhere amongst the busyness of our everyday lives, we can forget to enjoy the simplicity of being with them.

As a stay-at-home mum, I know how difficult it can be to remain “on” all day. I have moments where I know that my patience is waning. The one thing that I remind myself is that our children don't always need us to lead the next activity or be available for each moment that comes before them in a daily routine. They do not require us to constantly be on. They just need us to be present, to be available for them, and to be the light guiding their path through the unknown. For children, every day has new experiences, challenges, or moments where they seek us.

Sometimes the simplest, and yet, greatest gift we can offer our children is our attention. When we slow our lives down enough to watch them, we begin to notice the elements that make up the composition of our children. We see their humour that we may roll our eyes at internally, their persistence in overcoming challenges, their imagination, their kindness towards others, and their growing independence and capabilities. When we stop seeing the things in front of us as more important than our presence and time, we start seeing our children for who they are.

As our lives are becoming busier, due to the increasing pressures and demands of society, we are slowly losing the time that we desire and desperately seek. I have learned that being present does not always mean that hours of uninterrupted time need to be set aside. It can simply be sitting beside them, drinking that coffee you have been craving, watching whilst they play outdoors. Our presence alone can be enough sometimes. When we actively listen to the conversations they have with one another, joining in only when they need our guidance, or watching them work through a problem before stepping in, we are giving them the opportunity to build resilience and confidence in their own abilities whilst still remaining present.

More often than not, it is simply finding joy in the ordinary moments that happen throughout the day and reminding ourselves that their childhood is happening now.

Often, we discuss the importance of being present with our children. The evidence suggests that an actively engaged parent improves a child's academic success, emotional well-being, and social skills in a significant way (Department of Education, Australian Government). However, presence is not always about joining in and spending every waking moment actively engaged. Sometimes, it is more about observing, actively listening, and allowing ourselves to enjoy the remarkable individuals they currently are. It is about enjoying them. A quote from my mum is, “Enjoy your children; they are your greatest gift, and the greatest measure of your life.”

The more I slow the happenings of my life down, the more I come to realise that I don't need to fill every moment with something for my children. I just need to be available to them, include them, and be able to notice the moments that matter most to them.

A common theme I am noticing in my life is that the “ordinary days” are not just passing by, they are the ones that matter the most to me. All I feel that I require is to build a loving life with my children, to make memories that will benefit their childhood and enrich both of our lives.

The ordinary moments matter more than we will ever fully comprehend, they are their childhood.

It left me reflecting on a question I don't think has an easy answer:

How do we encourage children to pursue excellence without allowing achievement to become the measure of their worth?

There is increasing pressure surrounding childhood, with a growing emphasis on early specialisation, exceptional achievement, and the continual pursuit of the next milestone.

As parents, our desire to provide every opportunity possible for our children is rooted in love. We seek experiences that nurture their interests, develop their capabilities, and allow them to realise their potential. In doing so though, it is worth reflecting on whether our pursuit of opportunity can gradually become intertwined with expectations of achievement and performance. Perhaps the question we need to ask ourselves is: Who does this benefit more?

I understand that tension because I have lived both sides of it. As an elite athlete, I had the privilege of representing Australia on the world stage, whilst studying. Alongside those incredible opportunities came anorexia nervosa, spinal fractures, and many of the pressures that can accompany striving for excellence. There were also countless positives. I learnt discipline, resilience, perseverance, and travelled the globe. Those experiences shaped who I am, and continue to influence the way I approach life's challenges.

Looking back, they have also shaped how I think about ambition, achievement, and childhood.

I don't believe the answer is to discourage children from pursuing excellence. Rather, I believe there must be balance. Children can be encouraged to strive, challenged to grow, and supported to realise their potential, whilst still knowing that their worth has never depended on what they achieve.

My parents instilled that belief in me from a young age. They recognised my potential and supported me wholeheartedly. Whether I won, lost, or drew, they were proud of me. What I appreciate most is that they never measured my value by my performance. They saw me as their daughter first and an athlete second. Every child deserves that kind of foundation: a support system that allows them to pursue success in whatever form it may take, whilst always knowing they are loved beyond their achievements.

Childhood, in my mind, is a time for young minds to be shaped and nurtured. It is a time for children to develop a strong sense of self, construct knowledge through meaningful experiences, and grow within an environment characterised by love, security, and belonging.

My sister and I were raised to always try our best. Yes, we were encouraged to become the best versions of ourselves, and I have never viewed that as a negative. We aimed as high as we could because we knew our parents' love was never conditional on the outcome. Regardless of the result, we always knew where our worth lay.

My husband and I hope to foster that same philosophy in our own home. We hold high expectations for our children, not because we expect perfection, but because we believe they are capable. High expectations, when grounded in unconditional love, communicate belief rather than pressure. They encourage children to embrace challenges, build resilience and inner strength, and pursue excellence, whilst always knowing that who they are matters far more than what they achieve.

Now, as both an educator and a parent, I find myself reflecting on what childhood was always meant to be. I see it as a phase of life in which children learn to be, belong, and become (something the Early Years Learning Framework highlights). Many theorists have shared their perspectives over the years; some have been naive (in my opinion), whilst others have beautifully captured the essence of childhood. Children are capable of remarkable things. They can flourish in sport, music, academics, and countless other pursuits.

However, I also believe childhood is incredibly sacred. It deserves to be protected from the notion that a child's value is determined by how well they perform. Children are not miniature adults in training. They are unique individuals learning to navigate the wonders, complexities, and meaning of life. This is something we, as adults, can sometimes lose sight of ourselves.

A child's potential should absolutely be nurtured. Their passions should be celebrated, and their achievements encouraged. But our greatest responsibility is ensuring they know they are already enough, this needs to happen before they step on a field, stand on a stage, sit an exam, or cross a finish line.

If we enable them to carry that truth with them, achievement becomes something they pursue with joy, rather than something they need to earn for their worth.

As educators, we talk about differentiation. We write individual learning plans, intentionally scaffold children's learning, and recognise that every child brings different strengths, interests and ways of understanding the world.

As parents, we instinctively know this too. We don't parent each of our children in exactly the same way because we know they are different people with different needs. This is usually what makes the difference for a calm home environment too. Though, outside these moments, something changes.

We compare children to their siblings and peers. We worry when they don't meet milestones at the same time as everyone else. We organise children almost entirely by chronological age and often allow age to become the strongest predictor of what we believe they are capable of.

Differentiation is something we celebrate inside the classroom, but outside of it we often default to chronological age.

Why do we so readily individualise learning, but hesitate to individualise opportunity?

Recently, this idea has become deeply personal. I've been weighing up whether to send my daughter to three-year-old kindergarten next year or the year after. It might sound trivial to some, but for me, education is everything. Because of her birth month, she sits right on the cusp. She could attend as one of the youngest children in her year, or wait and become one of the oldest.

I never had this dilemma with my son. His birthday meant the decision was made for us. There wasn't a choice. Sometimes I wish there wasn't one now. Honestly, with choice comes guilt, lingering questions, and anxiety. It is incredibly difficult not to compare children when these conversations arise, even when you know, and believe, that every child is unique and different.

My son and daughter have both developed well beyond what is typically expected for their age. I know, I know many parents believe this about their own children, and perhaps I sound no different... But I also know them deeply. I don't see my daughter through the lens of her age. I see her through the lens of her capabilities and her capacity as an individual.

The statistics generally suggest waiting. I understand why that recommendation exists, and I value the research. However, I like to analyse and question, as research can also be interpreted through different lenses, and no statistic will ever know my child as intimately as those who live and learn alongside her every day.

Throughout my children's lives, I have never focused on whether they were simply meeting milestones. Instead, I have looked for opportunities to support what they were already capable of becoming. I don't believe children should be defined by averages or expectations alone. Perhaps that sounds ambitious, and maybe even arrogant, it is not intended in this manner.

Though simply, it comes from a belief that the expectations we place on ourselves, and on children, influence what we believe is possible. Our mindset fixations can influence us greatly.

I never want my children to grow up believing their age alone determines what they can achieve.

At sixteen years old, I represented my country and won a gold medal. That experience, along with numerous others, shaped the way I think about potential. I was young, but I was capable. My age did not define what I could achieve.

Childhood is, of course, very different to this example. So I digress, development matters, maturity matters, and readiness matters.

A thought that I continue to dwell on is whether, in our desire to protect children, we sometimes become so guided by age that we overlook the individual child standing in front of us.

If a child demonstrates readiness socially, emotionally, physically and cognitively, should chronological age outweigh the professional judgement of those who know that child best?

I don't have the answer.

I only know that differentiation asks us to see the individual before we see the category. Sometimes this can be difficult, other times it is simple.

If we genuinely believe every child is different, then our decisions should reflect the individual child, not simply the expectations attached to their age.

Meaningful education begins when we notice the child in front of us, rather than the child we expected. When we slow ourselves down enough to observe, actively listen and respond intentionally, we begin to understand that every child is within their own developmental journey. Differentiation asks us to recognise those differences, and perhaps it is in these circumstances, which we can acknowledge that chronological age should not outweigh the individual child.

Possibly, this decision is asking me to do exactly that.

"How do you survive having the children home all day?"

The truth is, we don't really think about surviving them. I am the mum who gets excited knowing that the school holidays are coming, because not a lot actually changes.

During the school term, our four-year-old attends sessional kindergarten for, while our two-year-old daughter is home with me. School holidays simply mean we have one more little person joining in slightly more with our everyday life.

Our routines never disappear, and the foundations that we have fostered for our family don't change. The expectations we have for our children also remain the same. We still help one another, spend time outdoors, share meals, and contribute to our home. Those things aren't reserved for school holidays or weekends. They are consistent and constant parts of who we are as a family.

It is this consistency that gives our children security, and provides us with a calm home. They know what to expect, and this provides them with a sense of security, enabling them to also know what is expected of them. Of course, there are moments when the house is louder than usual and routines take a lot longer than my patience can manage successfully, which is all part of family life.

During the holiday period, I don't feel pressure to fill every day with expensive outings or a calendar full of activities. Instead, the invitation is open to our children to meaningfully engage in the life we are already living.

If I am baking in the kitchen, I want them to be taking part beside me. I want them actively involved in collecting ingredients, measuring quantities, and proudly helping with the clean up afterwards (even if it is easier without the assistance sometimes). If we are in the garden, they have their own jobs to do, they can also move to play within the mud kitchen nearby, and utilise excess herbs. If something needs repairing, they watch, ask questions, and hand us the tools we need. Lastly, even the grocery store is an opportunity to linger upon. So many great discussions around food, numbers, and making thoughtful choices can occur. Every aspect of our life is an opportunity for immense entertainment.

Some days we head outdoors. We might explore a walking track, visit a playground, or simply spend the afternoon in our own backyard. Nature has a wonderful way of encouraging thought provocations, conversations, and movement without us needing to manufacture entertainment.

Not every day needs an outing, quiet days at home are always welcomed. Some of the richest childhood memories are built in a simple morning without rushing. Constructing blanket cubbies in the lounge room, reading books together, creating with whatever we have at home, or simply having the freedom to wonder what to do next. Do not think that every moment needs to be filled.

One aspect of the foundations for our home that becomes even more valuable during the school holidays is our dinner table conversations. Each evening, we sit down together and talk about our day. My children now ask us all in turn, what we enjoyed most and what we are grateful for from our days. Even at two and four years old, these conversations encourage reflection, appreciation, and communication skills. Before dinner is over, we also make a simple game plan for the next day.

Each day, I try to include one exciting moment that gives each child something to look forward to sharing for the evening, as their gratitude moment. It doesn't have to be elaborate or expensive, as it just provides them with a feeling of being valued. Sometimes it is as simple as baking together or visiting a playground. Other days, we'll meet friends for a playdate at the park, enjoy a coffee date at a local café, go for a walk in nature, hike through our local mountain ranges, explore nearby volcanoes, or spend the day at the beach.

To be honest, the activity itself is never really the intent. What matters is that we're spending time together, communicating openly, and creating shared experiences. Those moments naturally become opportunities for learning, whether we are observing wildlife, discussing how volcanoes were formed, or just simply practising kindness and patience from the everyday moments.

When we do have solid plans in place, we first share them the night before at dinner. They eagerly anticipate our plans, and that excitement carries into the next day. It also helps us work together as a family. We talk about what needs to be done first, how we can help one another, and what we'll enjoy together once those jobs are finished. In many ways, it gives our family a shared goal and a commitment to working together to achieve it.

Children do not need constant entertainment. They benefit from predictability, a sense of purpose, and knowing that they belong within their family.

I think there can be such pressure during school holidays to create the magical experiences that photos can capture for others. Social media often makes it seem as though childhood is built through constant outings and elaborate activities. But is it really? Children simply need to feel valued, included, and loved.

The school holidays remind me that learning doesn't pause when kindergarten does. It continues through all of the meaningful moments shared together. This is how we "survive" our school holidays.

We do not try to survive them at all, we simply continue living the life we've intentionally built together and embrace every moment.

Although their experiences differ, they usually arrive at the same conclusion, which is that the early years hold the power for great change.

Developmentally, this is true. We often view each milestone as evidence of growth, but the impact and importance of early childhood reaches far beyond first words or first steps.

The early years are not just a period of rapid development; they are the years in which the foundations for life are built.

The first three years shape developing minds. The first five years establish the foundations that support future learning, relationships, and wellbeing. By around eight years of age, children have built upon these early foundations, and have commenced creating pathways that influence how they learn, regulate emotionally, and engage with their world.

Naturally, development does not stop there. Human beings continue to learn and grow throughout their life, however, no other period offers this same level of developmental opportunity. During this time span, the brain develops at an extraordinary pace. This is why gaining positive experiences, positive relationships, and positive environments are especially influential.

To be clear, these early experiences do not determine a child's future, but they profoundly shape the possibilities available to them, and the way they perceive their future.

This is why investing in children during the early years matters. It is why I believe so strongly in shaping a positive future for our young children.

Strong foundations support future growth.

When these strong foundations have become absent, children will continue to grow, but they often do with greater support, intervention, and time required. We cannot always control the circumstances surrounding a child's early years, but we can recognise their significance and choose to value them.

Perhaps one of the greatest misconceptions about the early years is what education actually looks like.

Sadly, as a society we have come to associate learning with only structured activities, carefully planned lessons, and experiences that appear educational from the outside. While these certainly have their place, they are not where the most meaningful learning begins.

Please don't be deceived by what meaningful education is.

Education in the early years is most often found in the ordinary moments of our everyday lives.

It is engaging in meaningful conversations with your children. It is actively listening instead of simply responding to just hold a conversation for the sake of it. It is extending their thoughts through thought provoking questions, introducing rich vocabulary naturally, and making connections between what they already know and what they are genuinely intrigued to discover.

To put it simply, go on adventures together. Wander through nature and discover science meaningfully. Bake food that resonates with your culture. Plant seeds in the garden, and watch insects at work. Stand quietly beneath an old tree and wonder why its branches have grown the way they have, whilst counting the birds hidden within them. These are not distractions from learning, it is important to see them as learning.

Young children do not need their thinking underestimated. It is one of my biggest annoyances as an early years professional. Children are capable of exploring remarkably complex ideas when they are supported by responsive adults who guide rather than direct. The theorist Vygotsky explained this as a Zone of Proximal Development with a More Knowledgeable Other (Vygotsky, 1978).

I truly believe that our children learn best when their knowledge is meaningfully constructed. Meaningful education is not measured by how many structured activities fill a child's day, nor by how early they can complete worksheets. As a teacher, I have seen how this belief fails our children.

They don’t learn by being told, they learn by being involved.

The quality of the relationships that surround children, and the conversations they are invited into with opportunities to grow and become matter so much more. Evidence shows that when learning is meaningful and built on strong foundational skills, children demonstrate significantly higher performance in overall academics (AERO, 2023).

When we truly understand the importance of the early years, we begin to see childhood differently. The realisation that development is not built through extraordinary moments alone becomes evident.

The early years hold the power for great change because every meaningful moment of connection contributes to the foundations upon which a lifetime of learning will flourish.

To conclude, do not feel the need to rush through the simple moments, explore them meaningfully together because the early years truly do matter more than we may realise.

References:

Vygotsky, L. S. (1978). Mind in society: The development of higher psychological processes. Harvard University Press.

Australian Education Research Organisation. (2023). Early childhood learning trajectories: The evidence base. edresearch.edu.au

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