How to Include Kids Without Centering Them

I’ve noticed that when the kids are present at our gatherings, we tend to oscillate between two extremes — designing the event entirely around them or ignoring them altogether.

That night at Upstate Art Weekend, my husband handed each of them a $3 reporter’s notebook and a mission: ask as many guests as possible — artists, strangers, friends — “In one word, what can art give the world?” Whoever collected the most answers would get a cookie. They practiced their lines: “Hi, I’m Orion. What’s your name? May I ask you a question? In one word, what can art give the world?” At first they were hesitant, but as they practiced, they became more intrigued. With the notebooks and a pen in hand, they looked as if they'd been handed keys to a magical kingdom.

As the night bloomed, the kids became like bees cross‑pollinating the party, moving from table to table. The one‑word prompt worked well: easy for the kids to remember, and enough of a constraint for an adult to answer. The question was also relevant to the purpose of the event. (The cookie didn’t hurt either.) Meanwhile, we (as the parents) got to have real adult conversations, while keeping an eye on them.

By the end of the night, their notebooks were full of words: “Joy.” “Unify.” “Inspire.” “Happiness.” “Equalizing.” And they were so excited and proud. The kids weren’t just tolerated. They were transformative. The kids’ question cracked open conversations, and gave adults a moment to pause and explicitly consider the question at the heart of the weekend: what is the purpose of art? And the kids had a playful, age-appropriate way to engage.

My husband (he’s clearly getting good at this) gave our kids a role they were excited about: my daughter, who loves to draw, asked guests if she could sketch their portrait. My son, who makes animals out of tin foil, asked guests their favorite animal and made it for them. It’s not rocket science, but it gave each kid an organic, natural way to have social permission to engage with an adult in a way that felt festive.

“Let’s ask a magical question instead.” (Close readers will know that I define a “Magical Question” as a question you ask in a group that everyone is interested in answering, and everyone is interested in hearing each other’s answers.) My daughter suggested one: “What’s the naughtiest thing you've ever done that was worth it?” We all cracked up. And were very interested in each other’s answers. And it changed the night. We took turns telling stories others hadn’t heard. It was honest, fun, and slightly transgressive! Kids are funny.