Yesterday, my daughter came to me with tears streaming down her face because her friend said something mean at the playground.
My first instinct? Fix it, call the mom, and make it better.
But instead, I sat down on our kitchen floor, pulled her close, and said the three words that have become my default: “Tell me more.”
That moment won’t make it into any baby book and it won’t show up in her graduation video, but something tells me it’s exactly these seemingly insignificant exchanges that are quietly building the bridge she’ll cross when she’s older and needs someone to trust with the really hard stuff.
After seven years teaching kindergarten before having kids, I thought I understood children.
Then I became a mom and realized how different it is when they’re your own.
Every small choice feels monumental because you’re playing the long game, trying to build trust that will last decades.
Here’s what keeps me up at night: We won’t know which moments mattered most until our kids are grown, but I’ve noticed patterns in the families I’ve observed over the years, both in the classroom and in life.
These are the tiny, everyday moments that seem to make the biggest difference:
1) When they interrupt your “important” task with something silly
You’re finally getting dinner started after a chaotic day, and your toddler runs up holding a rock they found outside, eyes sparkling with discovery.
Do you pause and marvel at their treasure, or brush them off with a quick “that’s nice, honey”?
I used to prioritize the task over the moment.
Until I realized that every time I stop and genuinely engage with their excitement about small things, I’m teaching them that what matters to them matters to me.
Your teenager won’t suddenly trust you with their heartbreak if you’ve spent years signaling that your agenda is more important than their discoveries.
2) The first time they tell you they hate you
My son screamed “I hate you!” last week when I wouldn’t let him have ice cream for breakfast.
My stomach dropped, even though I knew it was developmentally normal.
Growing up, expressions of anger were shut down immediately in my house.
We ate dinner together every night, but conversations stayed surface-level because anything too emotional was uncomfortable.
So, when my kids express anger at me, I try to breathe through my own trigger and say, “You’re really mad at me right now. I’m listening.”
If they can’t safely express anger at 5, how will they trust me with their rage at 15 or their frustration at 25?
3) When they ask you an uncomfortable question
“Why is that man sleeping on the sidewalk?”
“Where do babies come from?”
“Why did grandma die?”
These questions usually come at the worst possible times.
You’re late for preschool pickup, you’re in line at the grocery store, or you’re exhausted.
How we handle their curiosity about difficult topics when they’re young determines whether they’ll come to us with the harder questions later.
Think about it this way: If we shut down or deflect their innocent questions now, we’re essentially hanging a “closed” sign on those conversational doors.
4) The moments right after they mess up
Spilled milk, broken vases, lies about brushing teeth; these micro-failures happen daily, and our response in the immediate aftermath sets a powerful precedent.
Do we focus on the mess or the human who made it? Do we problem-solve together or shame them into compliance?
Last week, my daughter accidentally broke a ceramic bowl that belonged to my grandmother.
I felt the anger surge, then caught myself.
“Accidents happen. Let’s clean this up together and figure out how to be more careful next time.”
She’ll mess up bigger as she grows.
If she knows I’m safe when the stakes are low, she’ll trust me when the stakes are high.
5) When they’re upset about something that seems trivial
Your preschooler is devastated because their sandwich was cut wrong, or your first-grader is sobbing because their friend played with someone else at recess.
Adult logic says these aren’t real problems, but dismissing their feelings because we know it’s not a big deal teaches them that we get to decide which of their emotions are valid.
“Tell me more” has become my lifeline in these moments because I want them to know their emotional experience matters, regardless of the trigger.
6) Random Tuesday afternoons when nothing special is happening
Sometimes the most important trust-building happens during the mundane moments.
Walking to the mailbox, folding laundry together, or the five minutes before bed when you’re both too tired for anything profound.
These unremarkable moments are where kids test the waters with small vulnerabilities.
“My friend said I run weird.”
“I don’t think my teacher likes me.”
“I’m scared of the dark.”
If we’re present enough to catch these whispered confessions and respond with gentleness, we’re proving ourselves trustworthy with the bigger revelations that will come.
7) When they’re telling you a story that’s taking forever
You know the ones: They include every single detail about who sat where at lunch and what color everyone’s shoes were and you’re mentally making tomorrow’s grocery list while they talk.
But when we half-listen to their rambling stories about playground drama, we’re teaching them that their voice doesn’t hold our attention.
Fast forward twenty years, and they won’t bother sharing the important stuff because they learned early on that we weren’t really listening anyway.
8) The first time they choose someone else for comfort
Your child gets hurt or upset and runs to your partner, or worse, chooses to handle it alone in their room.
Instead of taking it personally, I try to see it as them practicing autonomy while trusting that I’m still available.
If I guilt them for not choosing me or force my comfort on them, I’m making their emotional needs about my ego.
They need to know that our relationship can handle their independence, that choosing someone else sometimes doesn’t threaten our bond.
One day, they’ll need to talk to friends or partners about things they can’t tell us, and that’s healthy.
Building bridges to their future selves
The truth is, we’re raising future adults who will face heartbreak, failure, moral dilemmas, and crises of confidence.
Every tiny interaction is a brick in the foundation of trust they’ll either stand on or find crumbling beneath them when life gets hard.
Growing up, my family’s dinner table conversations stayed safely surface-level.
Now, sitting on my kitchen floor with my kids, allowing their big feelings to exist without rushing them to “fine,” I’m trying to build something different.
We won’t know which moments mattered most until they’re calling us (or not calling us) decades from now.
However, if we stay present in the tiny moments, respond with curiosity instead of judgment, and remember that their emotional experience is valid regardless of our adult perspective, we’re probably building something that will last.
The next time your child interrupts you with something seemingly insignificant, remember: This might be the moment that matters, or it might not.
Since we don’t get to know until it’s too late to go back, maybe we should treat them all like they do.
