What My 2.5-Year-Old Is Teaching Me About Storytelling
One of the unexpected joys of reading with my daughter has been discovering which books truly capture her imagination. Some of our most treasured moments happen with books that aren't packed with words or elaborate plots. Instead, they're simple, emotional narratives—like when her eyes light up as the little chimp Bobo finally finds his mom for a big hug in Jez Alborough’s Hug, or how she turns very serious with concern when an octopus washes ashore in Alison Jay’s Out of the Blue.
And honestly? Watching her reaction has reinforced my own approach to storytelling.
The best moments we've shared—her little hand pointing excitedly at illustrations, asking for the same page "again, again!"—remind me that compelling stories aren't about complexity—they're about connection. Whether it's watching her empathize with a lion who misses her friend bird in The Lion and The Bird or celebrating the simple act of discovery in Tiny, Perfect Things, our reading sessions strip storytelling down to its essence: emotion, change, and a reason to care.
It's been eye-opening to be reminded that the same techniques that work for my 2.5-year-old—clear stakes, emotional depth, and meaningful transformation—are exactly what make any story resonate. Here are some of our recent favorites:
What fascinates me most is how these simple narratives transcend age, culture, and time. The same emotional beats that captivate my toddler—anticipation, surprise, resolution—are the universal rhythms that have drawn humans to stories around campfires, in theaters, and now through screens for generations. When my daughter clutches her chest during a tense moment or breaks into spontaneous applause at a happy ending, I'm witnessing the same authentic reactions that audiences of any age experience when truly engaged with a story. These primal responses remind me that at our core, we're all seeking the same emotional journey.
As a documentary filmmaker, my daughter has taught me that audiences don't need to understand every detail of a situation to feel emotionally invested in its outcome. The greatest lesson from these stories may be about authenticity. Children can immediately sense when a story rings hollow or when emotional beats feel manufactured. My daughter's unflinching criticism—closing books midway with a decisive "no, different one"—has made me ruthlessly honest about my own work. Have I earned this emotional moment? Does this character's journey feel true? The standards of a toddler have pushed me to consider stripping away artifice to find the beating heart of a story. In my latest project, I've found myself repeatedly asking: "Would my daughter understand why this matters?" Not the details or context, but the fundamental human stakes at the center of it all.