What I Learned When I Finally Listened to My Child

 

 

 

There was a moment, not so long ago, when my child stood in front of me, eyes wide, heart open, and said something that I almost missed.

I was distracted, half-listening, nodding while scrolling through emails. “Uh-huh,” I murmured, the universal response of a multitasking parent. But this time, something about their voice pulled me back. I looked up and saw disappointment flicker in their expression. That tiny pause, that hesitation, told me everything.

I had missed something important.

Later that night, after I tucked them in, their words echoed in my mind. And I realized: I hadn’t really listened in days. I had answered, corrected, reminded, but not truly heard them.

It stung.

That night, I promised myself something simple but powerful: to stop. To slow down. To look my child in the eyes and give them my full attention when they speak.

The next morning, I put my phone down when my child came into the room. I listened with intention. They told me about a dream they had one where we were flying on a giant bird made of books (don’t ask). But their eyes lit up when they realized I was really there, really with them.

That smile? That sparkle? That’s what we miss when we don’t listen.

And the truth is, kids know when they’re being half-heard. They learn to stop sharing. They learn to retreat. They learn that their voice isn’t important.

But the opposite is also true.

When we listen—really listen—they bloom. They tell us more. They feel seen, heard, valued.

Listening doesn’t require us to agree with everything. It doesn’t mean we give in to every request. But it does mean we show up fully. We honor their experience. We teach them that their thoughts matter—even if they’re five and talking about flying book birds.

That lesson changed everything for me.

Not just as a mother, but as a person.

And since then, I’ve been trying—imperfectly, but trying—to live a little slower. To pause. To make space for small voices and silly stories and big emotions.

Because children are always speaking. And when we finally listen, we often hear more than we ever expected