So, how should you walk with your child?

Note the preposition here. You do not simply walk your child. You walk WITH your child. You do not walk with your child as you would walk your dog. In fact, I have sometimes seen people show more patience with their dogs. I know this may sound a little harsh but think about it.

We take our dog for a walk. The dog stops to sniff a tree or a bush. We wait. It investigates something mysterious on the ground for what seems like an eternity. Still, we wait patiently, leash in hand.

Owner walking a dog

Now take a four-year-old for a walk. The child stops to examine a pebble.

"Come on! Hurry up!"

They see an ant carrying something ten times its size and crouch down to investigate.

"Let's go! We don't have all day!"

They pick a dandelion and run towards us with great gusto, eager to present us with their magnificent treasure.

"Yes, yes, very nice. Now come on!"

The irony is difficult to miss.

Perhaps we assume that because children are equipped with perfectly functioning brains, they should understand our schedules, our impatience, our deadlines, and our constant need to hurry. We expect them to adjust to our adult world simply because they can think and understand.

But a child's brain is not an adult brain in miniature form. A young child experiences time differently. They are driven by curiosity, wonder, and discovery. That pebble on the ground may be insignificant to us, but to them, it is something worthy of investigation.

Walk WITH your child—not in front of them, not behind them, but side by side. Stop when they want to stop. Let them examine that tiny bug on the pavement, pick up an ordinary pebble that somehow looks like treasure to them, or pluck a dandelion that they present to you with great gusto. Accept it as though you have just been handed the most magnificent bouquet in the world.

And keep the conversation going.

I remember that I used to talk to my children about everything—what I had done that day, what I was going to do after our walk, what we might do together after dinner. I simply spoke my thoughts aloud. We chatted constantly.

And without realizing it, they were listening, absorbing, questioning, and learning. Those everyday conversations helped expand their vocabulary and their understanding of the world around them.

If I had nothing to talk about, I made up stories. And this brings me to family history. After all, what is history but a collection of stories?

Young children are fascinated to hear about what their parents and grandparents did when they were young. Tell them about the games you played, the trouble you got into, the silly mistakes you made, and the adventures you had. I always made sure to include some of the "naughty" bits—and we would have a good giggle together.

These are more than just stories. They give children a sense of where they come from. They connect generations. And years later, they may remember those stories not simply because of what you told them, but because they remember walking beside you when you did.

Perhaps, every now and then, instead of asking our children to hurry up and enter our world, we should slow down and enter theirs. We could do that if only we walked WITH our children at their pace, side by side.