The yes I'll always give my kids

On noticing, tasting, and living life together

There’s a particular kind of invitation that sometimes comes at inconvenient times.

Will you look at this?

Will you taste this?

Will you take a bite so I can show you how good it is?

These small asks usually arrive when I’m mid-thought, mid-task, mid-everything. When my hands are full and my mind is elsewhere.

But here’s what I decided long ago: this is the yes I will always give.

Even when I don’t want the bite. Even when I’ve seen seventeen drawings today already. Even when I’m not hungry, not interested, not available in the way I wish I could be.

Because saying yes to “look at this” isn’t really about the thing itself.

It’s about noticing together. It’s about being invited into someone else’s experience of the world. It’s about the profound act of paying attention to what delights another person, even when that delight seems small or ordinary or impossibly timed.

Take Tyler and his salmon, for instance.

Tyler loves salmon. Like loves it. If salmon is on the menu, he is ordering it. It doesn’t matter where we are or what everyone else is eating, he’s the salmon guy. And every time — every single time — he offers me a bite.

Now listen, I like salmon. I do. But sometimes, when I’m midway through a big juicy cheeseburger, I don’t really fancy a bite of salmon.

Still, when Tyler Ley offers a bite of his salmon, I always say yes.

Because what he’s really offering isn’t just fish. He’s inviting me into his experience. He’s saying, Mom, this is so good. I want you to know how good it is. Come taste what I’m tasting.

And that? That’s love. In its purist form. Paused delight and an invitation to a shared experience. And also… interrupting your own experience long enough to step into someone else’s.

Taste this. Here, let me share what I’m experiencing.

Look at this. Here, let me show you what I see.

Feel this. Here, let me bring you into my moment.

It’s someone saying: Here’s what I find beautiful. Will you see it with me?

When we say yes, we’re saying: Your delight matters to me. Your experience of the world is worth interrupting mine for.

This goes beyond parenting, though that’s where I probably practice it best. This is true in friendship, in marriage, in any relationship that matters. The willingness to stop and notice what someone else is noticing. To taste what they’re tasting. To look at what they’re seeing. (To laugh at the six memes they sent — yes, even this too!)

So yes, I will look at your horse drawing again. Yes, I will taste the mixed-up drink you made from the soda fountain. Yes, I will take a bite of your salmon just to see how good it is. Yes, I will watch that TikTok you think is so funny.

Not because I always desperately want to. Not because it’s always convenient. Not because I’m naturally good at this kind of present, persistent attention. But because this is what it means to live with people instead of just be near them.

Your delight is delightful to me. I want to notice things with you.

Could it be that this is the work that matters most? That this is the work of love.

And maybe — just maybe — if we all paused long enough to step into someone else’s experience of the world, to really see what they see and taste what they taste, the world might be a softer, kinder place. There’s a bigger lesson here, I think…