I didn’t want to be slowing down. We were already late when my child stopped to watch an ant carry a crumb across the sidewalk. I felt the familiar tug to hurry, keys clutched, calendar buzzing in my head. Then my kid knelt, fascinated, and I heard the small voice beside me say, “Look how strong.” The world shrank to an ant and a crumb and the soft sunlight between buildings. We still made it to school. We also made it to a moment I would have missed.
Parents are praised for doing more in less time. Yet children are quiet experts at the opposite. They remind us that days are not only for crossing tasks off a list. Days are for being in a body, tasting a strawberry, and hearing a story all the way to the end. This piece is part reflection, part gentle guide. It offers a few ways to borrow a child’s pace and bring it into our adult lives, even when schedules feel full.
“Kids move at the speed of wonder. We can, too, for a few minutes at a time.”
What happens when you incorporate slowing down?
There was the time my preschooler insisted on zipping their coat alone while snowflakes landed on eyelashes. There was the meandering walk where we counted blue doors and waved to every dog. There was bedtime, when one more song became the best one, because the first two let us both soften.
In each scene, I felt the pull of efficiency. I wanted to help with the zipper so we could go go go go–no slowing down. I tried to steer the walk toward the shortcut instead of slowing down. I wanted to end the lullabies and open my laptop. But my child was running a different operating system. They were following curiosity, connection, and enoughness. When I chose their pace, a few things shifted:
- My nervous system took cues from theirs: slower breathing, fewer spikes of urgency.
- Small tasks became invitations to practice patience.
- We had more fun. Not fireworks fun, but the kind that fills a day from the inside.
None of this required a blank calendar. It required a reframe: I can be on time and still let this moment matter.
What I learned
Presence beats perfection
Kids do not need perfect hours. They need us here. Even two minutes of undivided attention changes the tone of an entire morning. When I start slowing down and kneel to make eye contact or put my phone away during a story, cooperation often follows. Presence says, “I see you,” and that is what children are working so hard to hear.
Try this: Before a transition, take one deep inhale and one long exhale together. Name the next step in a single sentence. “Shoes, then scooter.” It reduces friction and settles everyone’s pace.
One thing at a time is slowing down and it’s a superpower
Children are natural single-taskers. They pour all their focus into a puzzle piece or a puddle. It is not inefficiency. It is devotion. I noticed that when I mirrored this for even five minutes, I felt less scattered—folding clothes, even when I was only folding clothes, was surprisingly restorative. The Center on the Developing Child at Harvard explains that simple, playful back-and-forth interactions help build core skills like focus, working memory, and self-control.
Try this: Choose one everyday task to do without multitasking. Stir the soup while noticing the smell. Brush teeth and listen to the water. Let your mind stay with your hands.
Slowness builds skills
When a child ties their shoes or sounds out a word at their own speed, they are building patience, problem-solving, and pride. Our urge to step in is loving and understandable. It can also steal their progress. According to the American Academy of Pediatrics, play supports kids’ brain development, strengthens their relationships, and helps their mental well-being. Waiting a little longer than feels comfortable is an act of faith in their growing abilities.
Try this: Use a supportive script while waiting. “I see you working hard. I am right here if you want a hint.” If frustration rises, take a short break and return.
Rest counts as care
Children intuitively seek rest. They lean against us, flop on the rug, or stare out a window. Adults often override those cues. Slowing down made me notice my own need for small rests: a glass of water between meetings, a stretch before dishes, an early bedtime once in a while. When I honored that, I was kinder and steadier with my kids.
Try this: Add a tiny rest to a routine you already have. After school drop-off, sit in the parked car for one minute. After bedtime, stand on the porch and look at the sky. Short pauses still count.
Joy and slowing down likes a little breathing room
Delight does not love to be rushed. The giggle comes after the second silly face, not the first. The conversation blooms on the walk from the car, not during the scroll at the red light. Making a little room for joy made the rest of our lives feel less like a race.
Try this: Build a “margin minute” before transitions. One minute to look for the moon, one minute to choose a song, one minute for an extra hug. Margins protect the moment.
“The goal is not to be slow at everything. It is to be unhurried at the things that matter.”
What this means for families
Choosing to slow down is not a luxury reserved for weekends. It can live inside real constraints. Some mornings are messy no matter what we do. Some jobs are inflexible. Some parents are doing it solo. Slowness then becomes a tool, not a rule. We can insert it where it fits and let it go where it does not.
A few family-friendly ways to make it practical:
- Name your nonnegotiables. Pick one daily ritual to protect at a gentler pace. Breakfast at the table, story time, and a short walk after dinner. Keep it small and consistent.
- Use visual routines. Kids settle into flow when they can see the plan. A simple chart for mornings or evenings reduces the need to rush and repeat.
- Simplify the choice landscape. Fewer outfits, fewer toys on the shelf, fewer after-school activities can all translate to more ease.
- Batch the hustle. Group errands or messages so you can claim a pocket of slowness later.
- Invite your community in. Trade childcare with a neighbor, ask a grandparent to handle pickup, or carpool with a friend. Shared load, gentler pace.
What you can try today
- Have a “slow minute” with your child. Set a 60-second timer and let them lead the activity. Watch a bug, stir pancake batter, and stack blocks. Match their speed.
- Say the magic sentence. “We have enough time.” Even if you shave it to 20 seconds, say it softly and see what shifts in the room.
- Create a tech-free micro ritual. Phone in a drawer while you greet after school or during the first five minutes of bedtime.
- Practice the pause before helping. Count to five in your head before stepping in. If they ask for help, offer just enough and then step back.
- End the day with three notices. At bedtime, each of you names three small things you noticed. “The cinnamon on toast.” “The wobbly tooth.” Noticing is a muscle. This is how we build it.
A gentle closing
Children are not asking us to abandon our lives to live in slow motion. They are inviting us to find the speed at which love is easier to feel. Some days, that looks like tying a shoe twice as slowly. Other days it looks like a belly laugh in the kitchen or an extra verse of the lullaby. The calendar keeps moving. So do we. But for a few minutes each day, we can move like our kids do. Curious. Present. Unhurried. That is more than enough.