Meet Them Where They Are

By Katherine Meek

“I don’t like being outside,” my son says to me. Not angrily, but as a matter of fact. While I appreciate his candor, it took me a challenging couple of years to accept his feelings about the outdoors. At one point, the vision was to settle in a rural area with carefree barefoot children running through the woods. We’re getting there... Our first child was born with sensory processing challenges. He didn’t willingly step a bare foot on the earth for quite some time. Now age seven, his apprehension about the outdoors has taught me important lessons.

For starters, he feels how he feels and it’s not my place to challenge that. Second, I understand the flood of sensory information greeting him every time he braves the outdoors. Third, it is futile, exhausting, and relationship-straining to force a child to do anything. If I force him outside, his negative association with it would only grow. Perhaps most importantly, his statement is not actually true. He has had many happy moments in nature, and I know he will again.

My son is my teacher. His distinctive temperament has required much growth on my part. I now appreciate each child’s unique relationship with nature. As such, I have established one goal for engaging with my three children outdoors: meet them where they are. That one goal enables my children to connect to nature in their own way, forcing me to release all expectations of what nature play should be.

Having three small children with strong emotions and competing interests, we experience our share of moods and conflicts. When they are reluctant to play outdoors, or when we drag our bad moods into the woods with us, I’ve found a few strategies that allow me to meet them where they are and gently guide them to a better feeling place.

Establish Familiarity

We deliberately establish familiarity and comfort in nature. We do this by naming things we visit frequently. A tree bent over a trail is the doorway to “The Secret Village” and a long broken boulder is “The Castle.” The flat area with rocks and stumps where we charm the woodland creatures with our rhythms is, of course, “The Drum Circle.” I don’t always see the enchantment my children see, but I appreciate their fondness for certain locations.

While we are fortunate enough to have a forest in our backyard, we didn’t always have this much nature available to us. There was a time when the single tulip growing at the base of the tree in our yard was special. And the drainage ditch in the backyard became “The Gully” after big rainstorms. A small patch of particularly interesting weeds became “The Fairy Garden.” Establishing familiarity in nature doesn’t require much, only habit.

Tell a Story

If we all have low energy or I start to see the “I’m bored” look on their faces, we sit – usually squished together on a boulder. I tell a story about something I see. I’d love to say I tell an engaging tale with interesting characters, a coherent plot, and a moral…but I don’t. My stories are spontaneous, silly, and make very little sense. As my children grow, I may have to change my approach. But for now, silliness works – it connects us.  Sometimes I ask them to share a story as well. Before long, their tales become physical and they’re interacting with the storytelling tools of the forest.

Shift Focus 

Redirection can work for a child when he is lost in emotion, no longer sure why he’s upset. I whisper, or sometimes I point. That sudden yet gentle shift in focus, volume, and energy allows my child to bring himself back to the present and reconnect with me. The intent is not to dismiss emotions or push upsets aside. I use this when it becomes apparent that my child needs help regulating. “Can you hear that bird?” “Who do you suppose lives in that hole?” When we’re looking and listening intently, the focus shifts. Our discoveries lead to dialogue and exploration, and ideally an elevated mood.

Give them a Task

When one of my children is feeling especially aggressive and disruptive, I often give them a task. I’ll find an obstacle to navigate or a trail that needs to be cleared. I might decide the forest gnomes need a new stick house. Maybe I’ll give them a bucket and we’ll collect acorns, look for heart-shaped rocks, or find interesting items to incorporate into our crafts.

Take a Break

When met with heavy resistance, I’ll give myself a break. Taking responsibility for the moods of others can be a heavy burden. I’ll walk down the path and begin making a little person out of twigs and leaves. My children will undoubtedly follow me, and begin creating something too. I suppose it’s biological – small children will follow their caregivers. It works to our advantage now, though I’ll have to reassess when they are ready for more space.

Rethink “No”

I think twice about things to which I might normally say “no.” My son excitedly asked if he could play with a new toy out in the snow…several feet of freshly fallen snow. My instinct was to tell him it would likely get lost in the snow and he’d be upset. Instead, seeing the excitement on his face, his willingness to brave the elements, and his desire to do so with his sisters, I said “yes.” I watched them through the window. He may not have been sketching birds in a journal or examining the different types of moss with a magnifying glass. But he was outdoors, he was happy, and he was bonding with his sisters. That’s the ultimate goal.

Make Space for my Own Emotions

The final (and perhaps most important) way for me to meet my kids where they are is to be where I am. It sounds contradictory, how can I do both? Owning my mood, frustrations, and preoccupations allows me to be human. It grounds me and reminds me that my children experience the same waves of emotions that I do. Our family also has this agreement: It’s okay to be grumpy outside, as long as we don’t wallow or take our frustrations out on the people we love.

These strategies have shown helpful over time in letting myself meet my kids where they are. When the weather gets warmer and I enjoy barefoot walks outside, my son joins me briefly without prompting. He slowly and cautiously steps his little feet across the cold ground. After a few minutes, he says “I’m going to go put my boots on now.” I smile at him. I’m thrilled he came outside with me, that he challenged himself, and that he spent the next two hours outside playing with his sisters.

Katherine is a homeschooling Mom, yoga teacher, and problem-solving enthusiast.  She lives in rural New Hampshire, where she enjoys a multi-sensory approach to living and learning alongside her three children.