Yesterday I was substitute teaching, and for a few minutes I silently watched an elementary class play outside for recess. Despite the frigid temperatures, most of the kids were running around, playing ball, swinging on the swing set – anything to burn off some energy and get out their wiggles.

But as I looked all around, I noticed a few quiet corners, which really pulled at my heart strings. While most of the kids played in groups, I noticed a few who didn’t. One little girl stood completely alone by a tree with her eyes barely visible through all the layers, hands shoved deep in her pockets, watching everyone else from a distance. Another boy tucked himself behind a bush, watching the other large group of kids kick around the ball. These kids weren’t causing problems or doing anything wrong – but they also weren’t having fun. They were just… alone.

And it hit me: being a kid is hard. Maybe harder than we remember.

As adults, we tend to look back on childhood through our often miscued, filtered lens—no bills, no responsibilities, no real worries. And on top of that, many of us feel like kids today have it so much easier. Oftentimes, we can give them more than previous generations—more luxuries, more opportunities, more experiences. We buy the things we might not have had and we’re always trying to give, give, give. But are we focused on giving the right things?

Watching that playground yesterday reminded me of something important: even with all the “more,” the basics haven’t changed. Kids still need what kids have always needed. To be loved. To feel seen. To feel like they fit in. And most importantly, to know they matter.

No amount of toys, activities, or perfectly curated childhood moments can replace the simple, humanistic need to belong. And while that’s still the same for adults, it’s also easier to forget because our grown-up problems feel so loud and constant. And unfortunately, most of the time they seem to take precedence over pretty much everything else. We’re constantly juggling work and relationships and finances and a world that feels increasingly complicated. From our perspective, childhood seems easy in comparison. Think about it – how many times have you found yourself wishing you could go back to those carefree days with no “real-life” problems.

And while they might be small and not “real-life” problems in comparison, childhood has its own storms – quiet ones, invisible ones, the kind that don’t necessarily show up on our adult radar. But it’s all about perspective. To a kid, not having a friend to play with on the playground might be just as detrimental to their mental health as a failing relationship might be to an adult. Think of the courage it takes to walk up to a group at recess. The sting of feeling left out. The confusion of big emotions in a little body. The fear of not being chosen. That girl by the tree and that boy behind the bush? They reminded me of just how big those feelings are when you’re small. And sure, a lot of things we do as adults requires courage as well. But fortunately for us, our developed brains are better equipped to handle such stressors.

So as a parent, seeing this yesterday made me pause. Because it’s so easy to forget. It’s easy to see our kids acting out or shutting down or having a meltdown and think, really? This is what you’re upset about? We’re carrying adult stress—bills, deadlines, decisions, responsibilities—and sometimes, without meaning to, we place the weight of those frustrations onto our children. And while it pains me to admit it, I am definitely guilty of this.

But young kids (and tweens and teens) have their own worries. (And unfortunately for us as parents, bigger kids equals bigger problems!) Kids have their own hurts. Their own hard days. They make look different from ours, but it doesn’t make them less difficult. So maybe we need to remind ourselves to just give kids a break. Give them grace on the days they crumble. (Even if that comes in the form of them acting out.) Give them space when they need to breathe. Give them patience when their emotions spill over and none of it makes sense to us. They’re still learning. Hell, so am I. Everyday. But these kids are still growing. And they’re still figuring out their place in this world, and that’s a hard thing to do. But it’s up to us to recognize that and let them.

And maybe we, as adults, can soften a little too and try not to take our grown-up worries out on them. Maybe we should not assume their life is easy just because we provide more than we ever had. Maybe we should not forget that being a kid – even today – comes with its own battles. Because the truth is, kids don’t need perfection from us. Or all the fancy stuff. They just need presence. Understanding. Love. A safe place to land, even on the days they stand alone by the tree. Because THIS hasn’t changed in generations, and I just don’t think it ever will.