The Unexpected Gift of Being Seen
It’s funny how the smallest moments can leave the deepest imprints. Last week, my 10-year-old nephew, Liam, reminded me of a truth I’d almost forgotten: being appreciated isn’t about grand gestures. Sometimes, it’s a quiet, deliberate act of recognition that changes everything.
I’ve always been the “fun aunt” in Liam’s life. Weekends often involved building pillow forts, experimenting with questionable baking recipes, or marathon sessions of Minecraft. But as he grew older, our dynamic shifted. Video games lost their magic, and his interests drifted toward soccer practice and YouTube influencers. Our time together became less frequent, and I assumed it was just a natural phase—kids grow up, right?
Then, one ordinary Tuesday, Liam asked if we could “hang out like before.” I assumed he wanted a distraction from homework or a ride to the mall. Instead, he showed up at my door with a crumpled piece of notebook paper and an intensity I hadn’t seen in years. “I made something for you,” he said, avoiding eye contact.
The paper was a handwritten list titled “Things I Like About Aunt Jen.” In wobbly cursive, he’d jotted down memories I’d assumed he’d forgotten: the time I taught him to ride a bike, the way I “always laugh at his jokes even when they’re bad,” and how I “listen more than other grown-ups.” At the bottom, he’d added: “Thanks for liking me even when I’m annoying.”
For a kid who’d recently mastered the art of eye-rolling, this vulnerability was unexpected. When I asked what inspired the list, he shrugged. “Mom said you’ve been stressed. I wanted you to know you’re cool.”
That simple exchange sparked a realization: effortful appreciation isn’t just about kindness—it’s a skill we rarely teach but desperately need.
Why Intentional Appreciation Matters
Children aren’t born knowing how to express gratitude. They mimic what they see. In Liam’s case, his gesture wasn’t random. Over the years, I’d made a habit of vocalizing small affirmations: “I noticed you shared your snack with your sister—that was thoughtful,” or “Your drawing improved so much! Tell me how you did it.” Without realizing it, I’d modeled a language of observation and specificity.
Psychologists call this “descriptive praise,” focusing on actions rather than vague labels like “good job.” It helps kids understand why their behavior matters. Liam’s list mirrored this approach—he didn’t just call me “nice”; he connected traits to shared experiences.
His effort also highlights a truth about emotional intelligence: appreciation thrives on reciprocity. When adults take time to notice a child’s world—their hobbies, struggles, random facts about sharks—it builds trust. That trust makes kids feel safe enough to reflect that care back.
The Quiet Power of “I See You”
Liam’s list didn’t just validate me; it revealed something deeper. In a world where kids his age are often glued to screens or measuring self-worth through social media likes, his act of old-school, face-to-face gratitude felt radical. It required him to:
1. Pause and reflect (What do I value about this person?).
2. Be vulnerable (Will they think this is dumb?).
3. Prioritize connection over convenience.
These are muscles many adults haven’t flexed in years. Yet here was a 10-year-old, pushing through awkwardness to say, “I see you.”
How to Nurture This Skill in Kids
Liam’s gesture wasn’t magic—it was practice. Here’s how families can foster similar moments:
– Name the “why” behind actions. Instead of “Thanks for helping,” try, “Carrying groceries was a big help—I had more time to cook your favorite meal.”
– Create appreciation rituals. A “gratitude jar” where family members drop notes about each other. Read them aloud monthly.
– Normalize imperfection. Liam’s list had cross-outs and smudges. Emphasize effort over polish.
– Ask curious questions. “What’s something someone did for you this week that made you happy?”
The Ripple Effect of Being Valued
Since Liam’s list, I’ve paid closer attention to how I appreciate others. I text my brother specifics about his parenting wins. I tell my mom exactly which childhood memories comfort me. Like Liam, I’m learning that generic compliments float away, but detailed recognition sticks.
Kids often get labeled as self-absorbed, but they’re capable of profound empathy—if we give them the tools. Liam didn’t just want to cheer me up; he wanted me to feel understood. And in doing so, he taught me that appreciation isn’t a one-time act. It’s a lifelong conversation, where “I see you” becomes “Help me see you better.”
So here’s to the messy, heartfelt efforts—the scribbled lists, the half-baked cookies, the awkward hugs. They’re not just acts of love. They’re proof that we’re paying attention. And in a distracted world, that’s the rarest gift of all.
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