When a child runs towards you, crayon drawing in hand, what are they really asking? On the surface, they are looking for your attention with a splotchy sun or a purple elephant. But beneath that eager expression lies a question far more profound than “Do you like it?” They are asking, “Can you see me?”
This is the central, fundamental question a child poses to the world. It is not about seeing them physically. It is about existential recognition. In your gaze, your child is searching for proof of their own existence and worth. They are asking if you they exist in your world—not about their achievements or their messes, but the essence of who they are.
In our busy lives, it is easy to look without seeing. We see a report card, but not the effort or anxiety behind it. We see a tantrum, but not the overwhelm or frustration they’re trying to get you to understand.
To truly see a child is to pause the constant motion of adult life and bear witness to their inner world. It is to look past the behaviour and into their being. When a child feels unseen, they learn to perform for attention or shrink away in the belief that they don’t matter. When they are truly seen, they learn that they are valuable simply because they exist.
As you go about your daily routine, consider this: When your child enters a room, does your face light up? Do your eyes say, “I am so glad you are here”? Or is your child just another task to be managed in a long list of things to do?
The unasked question is always in the air. The answer is always in your awareness or otherwise.