When it’s time to play with legos, the big bag is never emptied one at a time. It’s violently dumped all at once.

The same goes for the box of crayons and tub of plastic flowers and anything food related. Dump it all out. Let’s get to work playing.

Sure, the approach is a bit unnecessary. Most of the legos won’t get used this time around. You could easily just pick a few flowers out of the tub as needed. We’ll move on to a different game in a few minutes. The clean up never ends.

Who cares. Dump it all out.

Source: Not sure, but not me.

If you waited until you felt ready, the kid would never be born. Perfectly ready isn’t an option.

You can buy all the stuff and read all the books and build up the nursery. And at the very end there is nothing she wants more than to get the baby out.

But that last mile of feeling ready? It may never arrive.

And the wisdom applies month after month. Each phase is another chance to not feel ready for {toddler feelings, potty training, first days of school, driving, dating, graduation, college, careers, weddings}.

But you are.

We adults think this way all day every day. The proof is in how we act.

It’s why we look at our phones standing in line at Target or waiting for an airplane to take off. It’s why we don’t engage in meaningful conversations with strangers. It’s why we stop trying new things.

Not much is interesting.

It’s a shock to the system when your toddler desperately wants to examine and play with boring stuff.

And it’s a trap to downplay or trivialize their interest.

Instead, double down on anything interesting, no matter how boring.

Do the next right thing

But it’s easy to do a bunch of “right” things with bad posture.

Playground trips, puzzles on the floor, school pick-ups, 1×1 partner conversations. All these can be completed with impatience or annoyance or an attitude of woe is me.

A subtle, helpful tweak may be Feel the next right thing

Grateful. Optimistic. Giving. Humble. Confident. Excited. Positive. Feel the next right thing and doing the next right thing is totally different.

It’s 2:00 AM.

I’m a toddler standing outside my parent’s bedroom door. Something doesn’t feel right. The weird gurgling in my stomach is now gurgling in my throat.

I barf. It’s awful. I barf again later. Who knows how many times I barf that night. Enough to develop a fear of barfing later in life.

Later that night, I’m laying on the couch watching The Jungle Book. My head is in my Mom’s lap. She is rubbing my back. I’m distracted by the movie but still helplessly moaning “I wish it was tomorrow.”

This is my first memory of my Mom making me feel safe.

She couldn’t stop the barfing. She couldn’t make me feel normal. But she held me in the middle of the night and kept me safe.

//

Turns out, 30+ years and I get to see the Mom in my house do the same thing for my kids.

Middle of the night. Middle of the day. When they’re sick, sad, scared, or hungry. When she’s had no sleep. When life feels like a total mess.

She makes our kids feel safe.

//

Cheers to the Moms.

We hung out with some friends when Mazey was a few months old. Their little boy was older and held a milk bottle all by himself.

I couldn’t believe my eyes. This little tiny boy, just a tad ahead in age, already holding a bottle with two hands and drinking it by himself.

I used to hold Mazey’s bottle.

Now I don’t.

One day I proudly said “You don’t even need me!” and now I’m not allowed to do anything she can do herself.

//

The big arched ladder at the playground used to be a tricky climb.

That first grip and pull was especially hard. She needed core strength and coordination to plant her feet. The arch is awkward, so each step meant holding on and bending forward to move up.

I used to hover with my arm on her back.

Now I don’t.

Now I step back and watch and proudly shout “You don’t even need me!” as she finishes the climb and sprints to the twisty slide.

//

Last week Mazey couldn’t figure out how to get a toy out of the toy box.

This thing was stuffed down deep and needed some wiggling to surface it.

I used to get the toy for her in this situation.

Now I don’t.

Now I encourage her to solve the problem and proudly shout “You don’t even need me!” when her hard work pays off.

//

The list of “You didn’t even need me!” moments gets longer each week.

Pretty soon, I’ll hover over him on the arched ladder one last time. I’ll graduate to the park benches with other parents to relax and watch the big kids from afar.

And they will get dressed and comb hair and tie shoes.

They will jump in the pool and put on seat belts and do homework.

They will go sleep at a friend’s house and walk through the neighborhood.

They will boil water and ride the bus and troubleshoot their own computer.

Each time I will excitedly say “You didn’t even need me!” while wondering where the days of the milk bottle and arched ladder and stuck toy went.

Reverie Cafe closed after 21 years in the neighborhood. What a shame.

The outpouring of love from the community isn’t surprising. You expect warm and fuzzies when a local staple says farewell.

But what if you imagine the little cafe in Cole Valley wasn’t a restaurant for those 21 years, but a family saying farewell to a neighborhood? A family who has been there, every day, living amongst all the other families and couples and elderly and dogs and cats. A family milling about the neighborhood doing their thing. A family seeing changes come and go.

What will you say when you leave the neighborhood? What would people say about you?

Here is what the owner, Roger Soudah, said about his time Cole Valley:

Probably the right idea to build a story like this to look back on our family’s time in the neighborhood, wherever that may be.

This normally isn’t what you want to hear when things are hard.

Pithy. Generic. Overused.

And for some people, it’s not even true. Things might not be ok.

But sometimes this is exactly what you need to hear from someone more experienced than you. What Everything is going to be fine really means is You’re doing fine and Don’t be so hard on yourself and Make sure to have fun.

Last week, a routine neighborhood walk was paused to watch a tow truck load up a car and carry it away.

What a wild scene for a toddler. Loud clanking and churning and grinding. A massive mechanical piggy back ride. Then the tow truck and car just mosey off to a destination unknown.

I explained the events in real time. The small car is broken. Those guys watching are sad because their car is broken. That nice man has a big truck and is helping. As we waved goodbye, I bumbled around the finale and went with “now the tow truck is taking the car to the car doctor.”

Days later, Mazey excitedly told Auntie Kate about the scene on FaceTime. The story was mostly incoherent, but unprompted and seemingly out of nowhere. The key characters and observations were all there.

Turns out, the tow truck and car doctor were stashed somewhere in her brain ready to pop out at the right time.

And it really, really hit me.

Every little moment really matters now. Each perspective we share about how the world works. Stories we tell about people and places and things. Interactions between Mom and Dad. Our words and tone and attitude and body language.

Sure, every little moment always mattered. We’re being watched from day one. We talk and play to keep them engaged, but the feedback loop feels weak.

But now? Now feedback loop is alive. The tow truck and car doctor and everything else is sticking and resurfacing.

Our influence is powerful. The stakes feel higher with age. It’s hard to perfectly craft every single moment. To slow down and take the time.

But maybe it’s worth a shot knowing the tow truck and car doctor might be the most important thing she learns this week.

Graceful context switching is something that can help your career.

Maybe a random Tuesday looks like this:

• The morning’s first inbound email is an important customer who is angry.
• But then you look over sales numbers and see the new strategy is working!
• But then your best performer tells you about an offer to work elsewhere.
• But then you have coffee with a great teammate who is kicking butt!
• But then you learn a key project is delayed.
• But then you learn another key project is ahead of schedule!
• But then the big sales prospect cancels your big meeting.
• But then you go to a team party to celebrate a record quarter!

You weaved through good times and bad news and doing this well is a skill in itself.

To keep your head up. To not give up. To speak well of others. To not point fingers. To assume positive intent.  To see the bigger picture. To not lose your temper. To laugh. To ask for help. To wake up tomorrow and do it all again with a smile on your face.

This is parenting too.