When my two-year-old son enthusiastically placed his tiny hands on the door handle, the grimy walls, and the grim-looking lock of the festival restroom—a portable toilet whose suffocating stench made it abundantly clear that it had seen better days—I felt a visceral shiver course through me. The smile that spread across his face as he declared, with innocent delight, “Not need a wee-wee after all,” stood in stark contrast to my own reaction, which was little more than inward horror. Fighting the urge to audibly growl in exasperation, I rushed us both out of the cramped, suffocating cubicle, making a deliberate effort not to come into contact with any surface. Once outside, I quickly smothered my son’s palms with antibacterial gel, silently wishing for the millionth time that these makeshift restrooms were equipped with actual taps and running water. Gathering myself together, I clasped my son’s hand and we hurried back toward the grassy field where our family and friends waited, quietly reminding myself how fortunate I was to share this experience with them in the first place.
The past few months had been anything but ordinary. The decision to spend three consecutive nights camping at the Green Man Festival—a sprawling annual gathering held amid the wide, verdant expanses of the Welsh countryside, surrounded by thousands of fellow festivalgoers—represented not only a significant departure from my usual preferences but also the culmination of an experiment our family had committed to months earlier. Camping in such conditions was an enormous leap outside my well-protected comfort zone, and yet here we were, having survived to tell the tale. In truth, our entire journey began when I realized that the word “no” had become my instinctive response in nearly every circumstance. I wanted, desperately, to rewrite that narrative.
Together, my husband and I made a conscious, deliberate decision to start saying “yes”—yes to each other, yes to our children, and yes to invitations or opportunities that might enrich our lives. For me, this required a significant stretch, since the habit of declining requests had become so ingrained that it often emerged before I had even fully considered the question. One moment in particular put everything into perspective. My daughter, with the sweetest earnestness, asked me one afternoon, “Please can you read to me?” Almost automatically, my answer spilled forth: “Not right now.” Immediately, regret washed over me. I had brushed her aside not because I had anything pressing to finish but because it felt momentarily inconvenient to pause what I was doing. That realization stung, because I understood these years of her wanting to share so much of her life with me are fleeting and irreplaceable.
After sharing my frustrations with my husband, we came upon a simple but profound resolution: whenever our children asked us to do something reasonable, or when opportunities arose that might bring joy to our family, our default response should be “yes.” With our daughter about to begin school that autumn, the idea gained even more urgency—we wanted to lean into togetherness while it was still fully possible. We pledged to become a family that embraced rather than retreated from the unfamiliar, even when discomfort thrummed just beneath the surface.
Once we committed to that promise, we threw ourselves wholeheartedly into what became a ten-month experiment in openness. The results astonished me. Doors opened to adventures that I would once have dismissed outright, citing stress, inconvenience, or fear. One particularly vivid example was when we traveled to Kenya for my sister and brother-in-law’s wedding blessing. In the past, I’m certain I would have declined to take children so young—aged only one and three—on boat trips across expansive waters or on guided game drives through wildlife reserves. The truth is, I still felt deeply apprehensive. Yet, because we had agreed to this new approach, I chose to quiet those second thoughts, to silence the voice urging caution, and instead to trust the experience. And how rewarding it was: navigating Africa as a family stirred a sense of resilience and wonder in all of us.
Our adventures did not stop there. That spring, knowing the window of freedom before the start of the school year was rapidly closing, we organized a two-week journey through Thailand, hopping from one idyllic island to the next. The logistics alone had once seemed impossible, a challenge too daunting with small children in tow. But staying true to our experiment, we went ahead. To my surprise, not only did we survive, but we thrived—emerging from those two weeks with memories of turquoise waters, bustling markets, and family laughter that will stay with us for a lifetime.
Still, of all the “yeses” we uttered during that chapter, none seemed as intimidating to me as agreeing to spend several days camping at a music festival. The concept alone filled me with anxiety: thoughts of sleepless nights, of tents drenched in condensation, of grimy hair and perpetually unwashed hands consumed me in the weeks leading up to it. Even packing felt like a trial, the endless lists reminding me of just how many potential discomforts we were about to face. Yet when my brother-in-law and his family—long accustomed to this annual tradition—invited us to join them, we honored our pact and accepted with a wholehearted, if hesitant, “yes.”
The result? Against all of my fears, the festival turned into a resounding success. The children loved every moment: they took real delight in spreading out their roll mats, wriggling into brightly colored novelty sleeping bags, and waking each morning to a cheerful “bath” of wet wipes. Instead of sleepless nights, they slumbered peacefully beneath canvas walls, lulled by fresh country air and the hum of distant music. The joy in their faces made every doubt worth enduring.
Reflecting on this journey, I have come to realize how profoundly transformative these experiences have been. Saying “yes” more often has not only stretched my own boundaries but has also instilled in my children qualities that will serve them for years to come: courage in unfamiliar places, adaptability in the face of change, and the self-assurance to step into new environments with curiosity rather than hesitation. As I watch them grow into confident, resilient individuals, I feel immense pride—not only in them but also in the decision my husband and I made to let go of rigidity, to welcome discomfort, and to allow adventure to shape us as a family. In learning to embrace the unknown, we have discovered not only joy in unexpected places but also strength we never realized we carried within us.
Sourse: https://www.businessinsider.com/parents-say-yes-more-often-enjoy-international-travel-young-kids-2025-9
