October 26, 2026
Monday Morning Reflections from The Inspired Nana
We seem to live in a world that is very invested in doing.
Our calendars are full. Our phones are always nearby. There is another appointment to make, another message to answer, another task to finish. Even our leisure time can become something to organize and accomplish.
And somewhere along the way, I wonder if we have begun passing this constant need to be busy on to our children.
We worry when they have nothing to do.
We arrange activities, lessons, sports, outings and play dates. And when there is finally an empty space in the day, a screen can quickly appear to fill it.
Then we hear those familiar words:
“I’m bored.”
But I sometimes wonder whether children are naturally afraid of boredom—or whether we have taught them that every moment needs to be filled.
As a child, I don’t remember being bored.
I was very fortunate to grow up with grandparents who were nearby, and they were always doing things that fascinated me. My grandmother was a seamstress. My grandfather was a carpenter and a gardener.
I followed them around.
I watched.
My grandmother could take fabric, thread and an idea and turn them into something useful and beautiful. My grandfather worked with his hands, built things and tended growing things.
No one called these experiences “enrichment activities.” They were simply life.
By being allowed to tag along, observe and occasionally participate, I learned an enormous amount. But just as importantly, I was also free to wander away and become absorbed in something of my own.
There were no play dates as we know them today, and very few scheduled activities created especially for children. I was a child within a family, and I was allowed to enjoy the passage of time.
Looking back, I realize what a gift that was.
I eventually became a visual artist, and perhaps it isn’t surprising that observing was one of my favorite childhood pastimes.
I could look at things.
Really look.
The shape of a leaf. The way someone used their hands while working. The colors in a garden. The way light changed during the afternoon.
From the outside, perhaps it appeared that I wasn’t doing very much.
But inside, a great deal was happening.
Children need opportunities to observe. They need time to wonder. They need moments when nobody is telling them what they should be looking at, making, learning or accomplishing.
A child lying in the grass watching clouds is doing something.
A child quietly drawing is doing something.
A child watching a grandparent cook, sew, garden or repair something is learning.
And sometimes a child sitting quietly and apparently doing nothing is simply being.
Perhaps this is where our busy culture has become a little confused.
We have become very concerned with what children are DOING and perhaps not concerned enough with how they are BEING.
When every hour is scheduled, every silence filled and every hint of boredom answered with entertainment, when does a child have time simply to notice the world?
There is certainly nothing wrong with lessons, sports, clubs or organized activities. They can introduce children to wonderful experiences, friendships and skills.
But there also needs to be some empty space around them.
That space is where children begin discovering what interests them.
Give a child an afternoon with nothing planned and perhaps a blanket becomes a tent. A cardboard box becomes a castle. A stick becomes a magic wand. A few stones become characters in an elaborate story that exists only in that child’s imagination.
Nobody designed the activity.
Nobody explained the rules.
The child created it.
And that is something worth protecting.
There is another gift hidden in these quieter moments: children can begin learning that stillness is not something to fear.
As adults, many of us have discovered the value of meditation, prayer, contemplation or simply sitting peacefully for a few minutes.
These practices may look different from family to family, but they share something important. They remind us that human beings don’t always have to be producing, accomplishing or consuming something.
Sometimes we simply need to be.
Perhaps children deserve that opportunity too.
They can listen to rain. Watch birds. Sit beside someone they love. Dig in the garden without being hurried. Daydream. Draw. Think. Pray. Imagine.
And gradually they may discover something that our busy world can easily make us forget:
Quiet does not have to be empty.
So the next time a child announces, “I’m bored,” perhaps we don’t need to rush quite so quickly to solve the problem.
We might simply smile and allow a little time to pass.
Something may emerge.
An idea.
A question.
A drawing.
A game.
Or perhaps nothing visible at all.
And that may be perfectly all right.
Because childhood doesn’t need to be a race from one organized experience to another. Childhood can also contain long afternoons, ordinary family life, quiet observation and the wonderful freedom of having nowhere in particular to be.
I am grateful that my own childhood contained so much of that freedom. I didn’t know then that following my grandparents around, watching them create and work, and having time simply to observe the world was helping shape the person—and the artist—I would eventually become.
I was simply living.
Perhaps what today’s children sometimes need isn’t more to do, but a little less—less scheduling, less stimulation, less urgency—so there is room for imagination, observation, contemplation and wonder.
Perhaps boredom isn’t an empty space we need to fill. Perhaps it is the little open doorway through which imagination walks in.
And perhaps what we call boredom is sometimes something much more precious:
the freedom simply to be.
With love,
The Inspired Nana
Behind KidsLifeSupplies — helping families create magical childhood memories, one little moment at a time. 🌿💚
