Empowering the Next Generation: To Feel Heard & Seen

The Invisible Problem

Here's what's tricky: our kids are more visible than ever. We photograph them constantly, share their milestones, track their activities. But visibility isn't the same as being truly seen. And it's definitely not the same as being heard.

Research from the Center on Media and Child Health shows that parents now spend an average of 9 hours daily on screens themselves. Not judging—I'm part of that statistic. But here's the gut-punch: kids as young as four can tell when we're distracted by devices. They notice. And they internalize that whatever's on that screen matters more than what they're saying.

The result? A generation of kids who feel simultaneously over-documented and under-heard.

What "Being Seen" Actually Means to Kids

I asked my kids what it feels like when they feel heard. Here's what they said:

• "When you stop doing stuff and look at me"

• "When you remember things I told you before"

• "When you don't try to fix it right away"

• "When you laugh at my jokes even if they're not that funny" (ouch, but fair)

Notice what's not on that list? Elaborate conversations. Scheduled "quality time." Fancy activities. Kids want presence, not performance.

The Listening That Actually Works

1. The Phone-Down Rule

I know, I know. But hear me out. We created one simple rule: when someone starts a conversation with "Can I tell you something?", phones go face-down. That's it. We don't always succeed, but we try.

Last week, my daughter used that phrase to tell me about a update. Not exactly earth-shattering. But he used the same phrase three days later to tell me she was worried about a test. The rule created a container for both the mundane and the meaningful—and she trusted it.

Try this: Pick one time each day where devices are absolutely off-limits. Car rides work great. So does dinner, or the 10 minutes before bedtime. Start small. Protect it fiercely.

2. Reflective Listening (Without Being Weird About It)

There's this therapy technique where you reflect back what someone says to show you're listening. With kids, it can sound robotic if you overdo it, but used naturally, it's magic.

Instead of: "Uh-huh, that's nice, go wash your hands for dinner."

Try: "So Maya took the swing right when it was your turn? That must have felt frustrating."

You're not solving anything. You're just proving you heard the actual story. The American Academy of Pediatrics emphasizes that this kind of validation helps kids develop emotional literacy and self-worth.

3. The "Tell Me More" Approach

Kids often share in headlines, testing if we're interested. If we dismiss the headline, we never get the story.

Kid: "School was boring."

Parent (mentally planning dinner): "Oh yeah? That's too bad." [End of conversation]

OR:

Kid: "School was boring."

Parent: "Boring how? Like nothing-happened boring or sat-through-something-endless boring?"

Suddenly you find out their best friend was absent and they sat alone at lunch. The real story was hiding behind "boring."

Pro tip: "Tell me more about that" is a magic phrase. Use it liberally.

4. Special Time, Silly Simple

Family therapists recommend "special time"—one-on-one time with each kid where they lead. It doesn't have to be hours. Even 15 minutes of undivided attention can fill a kid's cup for days.

We do "couch time" where each kid gets 15 minutes a week with a parent on the couch. They choose the activity—Legos, drawing, chatting, whatever. The rule is: no multitasking. No phone. No other kids interrupting. It's not always convenient, but it's non-negotiable.

Research from the University of Minnesota found that even brief periods of one-on-one attention significantly improve children's behavior and emotional well-being. They called it "relational refueling." I call it the best 15 minutes of my week.

Celebrating Their Uniqueness Without Comparing

Social media has made comparison the default mode. We see other kids' achievements, milestones, talents. And sometimes we accidentally project that comparison onto our own kids.

"Why don't you like soccer? Your sister loved it."

"Emma's already reading chapter books..."

Kids pick up on this. And it makes them feel like who they are right now isn't quite enough.

Creative Ways to Honor Who They Actually Are

The "You Are" List: Once a month, I tell each kid three things I notice about who they are, not what they achieve. "You're someone who makes people laugh." "You're thoughtful about how others feel." "You're curious about how things work." I write these down. They keep them. Middle school will be rough, and I want them to have evidence that they matter exactly as they are.

Interest Boards: We gave each kid a small bulletin board in their room. They can pin anything that matters to them—drawings, tickets, photos, weird facts about sharks. We look at it together sometimes. It's a physical reminder that their interests (however random) are worth space.

One Question That Changes Everything: "What's something you wish people knew about you?" Ask this occasionally. The answers are gold. One of my kids said, "I wish people knew I'm not shy, I just think before I talk." That insight changed how we supported her in social situations.

When Screens Are Part of the Problem (And the Solution)

Let's be real: screens aren't going anywhere. And sometimes they're actually helpful. The goal isn't elimination; it's intentionality.

Co-viewing Changes Everything: Instead of banning screen time, try co-viewing. Watch that YouTube video with them. Play that game together. Ask questions. When we engage with their digital world instead of dismissing it, they feel seen in that space too.

Teach Them to Recognize When They're Not Present: My kids now call me out when I'm distracted. And you know what? I taught them to notice when they're tuned out too. "Hey buddy, I've asked you twice to set the table and you haven't looked up from that game. Can we pause and connect for a sec?" It goes both ways.

The Hard Truth About Being Present

Some days, you won't be. You'll be touched out, overwhelmed, mentally elsewhere. You'll realize your kid has been talking for five minutes and you have no idea what they said.

That's okay. Repair is powerful.

"Hey, I wasn't really listening before. Can you tell me again? I want to hear."

Kids are resilient. They don't need perfect presence 24/7. They need enough presence, enough times, to know they matter.

Resources That Help

Books:

• How to Talk So Kids Will Listen & Listen So Kids Will Talk by Adele Faber (classic for good reason)

• The Whole-Brain Child by Daniel Siegel—helps you understand what's happening in their brains when they need to be heard

Apps for Families:

• Calm or Headspace has family meditation—great for intentional presence together

• Marco Polo video app—my kids send me video messages during the day, and I respond when I can. It creates connection even when we're apart.

Conversation Starters:

• TableTopics for families (actual card game with prompts)

• "Highs and lows" at dinner (everyone shares)

• "If you were an animal today, what would you be and why?" (silly but effective)

What They'll Remember

My kids won't remember every conversation. They won't remember that I always listened perfectly or never looked at my phone.

But they'll remember the feeling of mattering. Of having someone who sees them—really sees them—even when they're not performing or achieving. Someone who thinks their random thoughts are worth hearing, their weird humor is worth laughing at, their feelings are worth holding.

That's what being seen looks like. Not perfection. Just presence. Enough times, in enough ways, that they know down deep: I am worth paying attention to.

So put the phone down. Ask one more question. Let them talk about Minecraft for the eighty-seventh time. Look them in the eyes.

Because one day they'll stop telling you about swings and Brynn and possible injustice. And you'll wish you could hear it all again.

Make sure they know you're listening now, while they're still talking.

My daughter was telling me about something that happened with her friends—something about a struggle between friends and someone named Brynn and possible injustice—and I was nodding along while mentally composing a work email. She stopped mid-sentence and said, "You're not actually listening.". And she was right.

That moment gutted me, honestly. Because I want to be present. I want my kids to feel heard. But I'm also trying to respond to seventeen texts, remember if we have milk, and figure out why the dog is limping. The struggle to actually see our kids in a world full of distractions isn't a parenting failure—it's the water we're all swimming in.