What my Two-Year-Old Taught Me About Slowing Down

A morning at the wildlife park is neither slow or easy. Particularly with a toddler and a baby.

Simple? No.

Worthwhile? Absolutely.
I learnt a great deal with Isy at the wildlife park.
The way a two year old will stop and stare – really stare – at the smallest, most insignificant thing is pure magic. There is something to discover at every turn, and a two-year-old doesn’t realise there are other – possibly more impressive – things just up ahead. Instead, a two-year-old will be completely absorbed by what’s in front of them.

An ant.

A feather floating on the breeze.



A kookaburra.

Ribbon wrapped around a fence.

A turkey.

Flowers in bloom.

Other people.

The ‘what’ barely matters. A child is just wholly present in that moment – be it positive or negative. They wonder and wander and question. (Endlessly. They question endlessly.)

A lot of the philosophy of slowing down is within us from childhood. We simply learn to ignore it, or, worse still, lose the ability all together. We’re far too busy to stop and wonder. Or wander. Or question.

Well, I’ve discovered it’s time to ask, “But, why?”

Or rather, “Why not?”

Why not stop, take off your shoes and feel the grass tickle your toes? Why not lay outside and watch the clouds roll by? Why not take a walk around the block, stopping to look at the trees, the dogs, the houses you come to?

Your inner-child will love it. And your outer-adult will be better off.


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