Guiding The Young Ones

Tag: family

  • A Love Letter to the Parents on the Hard and Beautiful Days

    A Love Letter to the Parents on the Hard and Beautiful Days

    Whether you have a newborn curled into your chest, a toddler exploring the world with determined little footsteps, an older child who seems to grow and change by the hour, or even one who now towers above you… this is for you.

    For the parent who is doing their best — even on the days where their best feels messy, tired, or not quite enough.

    Parenting is stunning in its beauty and staggering in its intensity. It fills you up and stretches you thin, sometimes in the very same breath. And no matter how much you read, how much experience you have, or how deeply you love your child… there are still moments that knock you sideways.

    There are days where your heart feels full and your patience feels thin.
    Where the love is overwhelming… and so is the noise.
    Where you find yourself wondering how something so magical can also feel so unbelievably hard.

    There are nights where you lie awake replaying the moments you wish had gone differently.
    The raised voice.
    The deep sigh.
    The “I should have handled that better.”
    The quiet ache of wanting to be the calm, patient version of yourself that felt out of reach that day.

    And there are the invisible moments too — the ones no one else sees.
    The tears you blink away.
    The responsibility you carry silently.
    The way you keep showing up, again and again, even when you feel depleted.

    I won’t pretend I don’t feel this too. Parenting has brought me some of my most beautiful moments… and some of my hardest. I’ve had days where I’m proud of the mother I am, and days where I sit with guilt and wish I could go back and redo things. But I’ve learned this truth along the way: even the most patient, loving, knowledgeable parents have moments they aren’t proud of. None of us are perfect. And none of us need to be.

    Here is a truth worth holding onto:
    Every parent feels this way sometimes.

    Doctors.
    Teachers.
    Child psychologists.
    Early years professionals.
    Parents with decades of experience.
    Parents with none.

    No one has it all figured out. No one gets it right every time. And every parent — every single one — has moments they wish they could redo. Because caring deeply will always come with a shadow of self-doubt.

    But your child doesn’t see any of that. They don’t measure you by the moments you replay in your mind. They don’t have a checklist of perfect responses or flawless days.

    In their eyes, you are enough.
    More than enough.
    You are their safe place.
    Their comfort.
    Their certainty in an unpredictable world.

    Your child won’t remember every toy you bought, every activity you planned, or whether the day went smoothly.
    But they will remember how it felt to be loved by you.

    The warmth of your arms.
    The softness of your voice.
    The way you return to them, again and again, even after a hard moment.

    Perfection has never been the goal of parenthood — connection is.
    Presence is.
    Trying again tomorrow is.

    So if you are reading this with a heavy heart, or a tired mind, or a quiet question of, “Am I doing enough?”

    Please hear this clearly:

    You are enough.
    You are doing enough.
    And you are doing better than you think.

    Not because you are perfect — but because you aren’t.
    Because you care.
    Because you reflect.
    Because you love your child with a depth that guides you even on the hardest days.

    None of us have all the answers.
    None of us get it right every time.
    And none of us need to.

    Your child just needs you.
    Exactly as you are.
    Human. Loving. Trying.

    And that is more than enough. 

    Georgina Young - Early Years Specialist's avatar

    Georgina Young – Early Years Specialist

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  • From My Heart to Yours — On Letting Go

    From My Heart to Yours — On Letting Go

    This week, I say goodbye to a very special little person — a child who has been with me for over three years. Since they were tiny. Since the early wobbly steps and sleepy snuggles. Since those first words, first drawings, first friendships.

    And now… they’re off to school.

    People often ask me how I do it — how I care so deeply, then let go again and again. And truthfully? Sometimes, I don’t know. Despite caring for hundreds of children over the years, nothing truly prepares you for the moment one of your children moves on.

    Because in childminding, they really do become your own — not in name, but in heart.

    We don’t just look after children. We grow with them. We witness them becoming. In a home-from-home setting like ours, where everything is small, familiar, and deeply personal, the bond becomes something powerful and lasting. They come through the door with tiny shoes and wide eyes… and somewhere along the way, they become woven into the fabric of your daily life.

    And then one day — it’s time to let them go.

    This isn’t just a goodbye. It’s the end of an era. It’s a turning of the page in both of our stories.

    We’ve shared the ordinary magic of childhood — the muddy boots and sticky fingers, the scraped knees and belly laughs. We’ve navigated those big toddler feelings, celebrated the tiny milestones that mean the world, and found joy in the simplest of things. We’ve watched the seasons turn together — planting seeds, jumping in puddles, searching for bugs, reading the same stories again and again.

    In this space, we’ve done more than learn.
    We’ve lived.

    And now they are ready. That’s the hardest part, and the most beautiful.
    They are ready.

    Ready for different challenges, bigger classrooms and new friendships. Ready to step into the next adventure with the confidence and security we’ve nurtured together. That readiness is a gift I’m proud to have helped shape. But that doesn’t make the goodbye any easier.

    I’ll miss the giggles, the little hand reaching for mine, the way they knew exactly where the favourite toys lived. I’ll miss the way they called out my name, the way we had our own little routines and shared stories. I’ll miss the everyday presence of someone who became a part of my world.

    And yet, this is what we’re here for.
    Not just to hold, but to prepare.
    Not just to love, but to launch.

    To the child heading off on your next big adventure:
    Thank you for trusting me.
    Thank you for growing with me.
    Thank you for letting me be part of your beginning.

    You’ve left your footprints on my heart.
    You’ll always be part of my story.
    And I’ll always be cheering you on.

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  • Not Built to Sit Still: Defending Childhood in an Age of Pressure

    Not Built to Sit Still: Defending Childhood in an Age of Pressure

    A Barefoot Conversation

    Why play, presence, and connection matter more than the DFE’s version of “school readiness“

    A barefoot conversation with a ladybird.
    That’s what stopped me in my tracks.

    Tiny toes curled against the grass, a child crouched low and still—whispering gentle words to a ladybird resting on a leaf. No rush. No noise. Just awe. Just presence.

    And in that moment, everything made sense again. This is childhood. Not worksheets. Not school-readiness tick lists. Not quiet hands and still bottoms. But muddy feet, wonder-filled questions, and empathy blooming from the tiniest of encounters.

    We are raising little humans, not robots. And yet across the country, we’re asking four-year-olds to meet expectations built for older children. We’re asking them to sit before they’re ready, to read before they’re developmentally able — to achieve like an adult, rather than explore like a child.

    But the world doesn’t need more children who can sit still at four.
    It needs children who care.
    Children who feel.
    Children who notice the smallest creatures and imagine their stories.

    Because from these early acts of compassion — like chatting to a ladybird — come the roots of kindness, empathy, and responsibility for the world around them.

    What the Research Says

    We don’t have to guess what children need. Decades of child development research is clear: play is not a luxury—it’s a biological necessity.

    • The Harvard Center on the Developing Child highlights that young children learn best through active, joyful, and engaging experiences— not passive instruction.
    • The Alliance for Childhood and UNICEF advocate strongly for delayed formal schooling, with many European countries (like Finland and Sweden) beginning structured academic learning at age 6 or 7 — after a long foundation of play-based early years education.
    • Neurological studies show that movement, exploration, and connection are essential for developing executive function, emotional regulation, and long-term cognitive skills.

    Yet here in England, we’re still pushing four-year-olds (and younger) into formal classrooms. We’re turning play into a performance. Exploration into outcomes. And our children are paying the price.

    A Personal Reflection

    When I think of the children in my care, I think of the ones who can build entire worlds out of sticks and stones. The ones who soothe slugs and rescue worms. The ones who tell me, with complete seriousness, what the ladybirds are saying back.

    And I think of the quiet ones — the ones who thrive when they are not rushed. The ones who don’t always find sitting easy, but who can spend 40 minutes moving conkers from bowl to basket with deep, meaningful concentration.

    These aren’t children who are behind. These are children who are becoming.
    Children who are deeply engaged with their world.
    Children who will grow into compassionate, thoughtful, resilient humans — if we let them.

    And yet I see the increased pressure creeping in. From “school readiness” checklists. From misunderstood expectations. From a system that has forgotten what childhood is meant to be.

    The Bigger Picture

    This isn’t just a professional frustration — it’s a national concern. We are seeing a sharp rise in childhood mental health difficulties, and many professionals in the early years sector are sounding the alarm.

    Children today are growing up in a world that is louder, faster, and more pressured than ever before. Many are struggling with anxiety, attention difficulties, and burnout — at just four or five years old. And instead of responding with care and compassion, we are asking them to sit longer, try harder, be quieter. This is not developmentally appropriate. It is damaging.

    Every child learns in their own way. Some need movement to think clearly. Some need silence. Some learn through messy, sensory exploration, while others thrive in quiet, focused play. They are not carbon copies. They are not data points. And they are certainly not “failing” because they can’t yet conform to adult-driven expectations. If we truly care about children, then their wellbeing, mental health, and right to a childhood must become our top priority — not optional extras squeezed in between phonics and fine motor worksheets.

    Why are we ignoring the mountain of evidence? Why are we still using outdated models of achievement when the world (and the child) has changed?

    It’s time we remembered: school readiness isn’t about sitting still. It’s about being secure, curious, and emotionally equipped to handle new environments. And we build those foundations through love, play, and presence — not pressure.

    A Call to Action

    Unfortunately, we can’t wait for policymakers to catch up — because far too many of the people making decisions about children have little understanding of child development and seem unwilling to listen to those who do. The system won’t fix itself. But we can be the change, from the ground up.

    Here’s how:

    • Speak up. Share your stories, your knowledge, your child-centred practice. Help shift the narrative from achievement to wellbeing.
    • Advocate. When conversations arise about “school readiness,” bring it back to what matters: secure attachments, emotional literacy, and developmentally appropriate expectations.
    • Connect. With parents, with educators, with community leaders. The more unified our voice, the harder it is to ignore.
    • Protect play. Let children be barefoot. Let them talk to ladybirds. Let them carry sticks and ideas and questions. This is not time wasted — it is everything.

    Final Thoughts From an Educator

    One day, our children will look back on these years.

    Will they remember a world that rushed them, silenced them, and tried to make them smaller?
    Or will they remember being seen, heard, and cherished for exactly who they were?

    That gentle whisper to a ladybird might just be the first step in raising a child who will one day protect the planet, comfort a friend, or stand up for what’s right.

    And that begins not with the DFE’s current version of readiness, as described by Bridget Phillipson…
    But by people who truly understand child development and with respect for childhood.

    So, let us be the ones who slowed down.
    Who knelt beside them in the grass.
    Who made space for joy, for wonder, for messy, magnificent becoming.

    Because when we protect childhood, we protect everything that matters.

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  • What Inspires You?

    What Inspires You?

    Inspiration is everywhere — sometimes loud and life-changing, sometimes quiet and steady. Often, we don’t even realise we’ve been inspired until we look back and see how far we’ve come, guided by the encouragement, belief, or example of someone else.

    Throughout my life, I’ve been surrounded by people who have inspired me, lifted me up, and encouraged me to be the best I can be. My family is full of incredible individuals, and I count my lucky stars every day that they’re such a special part of both my life and my children’s lives. From them, I’ve learned about resilience, love, humour, and the value of showing up for one another — lessons that have shaped who I am, both personally and professionally.

    But my inspiration hasn’t stopped there.

    There have been special friends who’ve walked with me through life’s ups and downs. There have been brilliant teachers who saw something in me — who invited me to take additional GCSEs, who encouraged me to pursue further qualifications, who planted seeds of confidence at times I didn’t even realise I needed them. And now, as I look around at the early years community I’ve found myself part of, I’m constantly inspired by the people I meet — educators who pour their hearts into their work, creating rich, meaningful childhoods for the little ones in their care.

    When I decided to become a childminder, it was after a period of deep personal reflection — particularly following the complicated birth of my youngest. Childminding was something I had considered for many years, but life (and a good dose of self-doubt) always seemed to get in the way. After his birth, I realised that life is too short to keep waiting. I wanted to build something that worked for my family and filled my heart — so I took the leap.

    As I began exploring what childminding could look like, I stumbled across some incredible pages and profiles online. They weren’t flashy or commercial — just full of passion. You could feel it in their words, in the love behind the photos, in the intentionality of the spaces they created. I was in awe of the thoughtfulness, the warmth, and the deep care that radiated from these settings. It was inspiring.

    Since then, I’ve come across hundreds — probably thousands — of passionate, dedicated childminders and early years educators. People who give their all to ensure children feel safe, loved, and seen. People who understand that childhood isn’t just preparation for life — it is life.

    Whether it’s designing beautiful, inviting play spaces, planning meaningful, interest-led experiences, heading out on muddy adventures, or simply being that constant, trusted grown-up in a child’s world — what you do matters. You are shaping lives. You are holding space for families. You are showing up, day after day, even when it’s hard.

    I’ve had the privilege of connecting with so many of you — in person, online, in passing conversations and deep discussions. And I truly hope those connections have planted seeds of friendship too. One of the things I treasure most about this work is the way it brings kind, passionate people together — people who care not only about children, but about each other.

    So to all of my followers, to every childminder, nursery practitioner, and early years professional reading this:

    I see you.
    I see the early starts, the late finishes, the careful planning.
    I see the hours spent researching, reflecting, adjusting, and adapting.
    I see the energy you pour into your environments, the way you tailor your care to each unique child.
    I see the cuddles, the encouragement, the gentle redirections, the joyful laughter.
    And I also see the doubts. The loneliness. The financial worries. The weight of feeling unseen or undervalued in a sector that is often misunderstood.

    Please know this: you inspire others.

    Whether you’ve been doing this for decades or are just finding your feet, the love and care you give matters more than you may ever know. Someone out there is watching your work — learning from you, feeling encouraged by your example, reminded not to give up.

    So whatever — or whoever — inspires you, hold onto it. Let it be your anchor on the hard days and your spark on the good ones.

    And if no one’s told you lately:
    You are doing something incredible.
    And you are truly amazing. 

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  • The Words We Choose: Language, Connection and Childhood

    The Words We Choose: Language, Connection and Childhood

    Not long ago, one of the children in my care was having a quietly difficult morning. There hadn’t been a dramatic outburst or any obvious signs of upset — just a certain stillness in their shoulders, a withdrawn glance, a subtle shift in their play. When I knelt beside them and gently asked how they were feeling, they paused, looked up, and with a quiet voice and simple Makaton signs, they told me: sad.

    In that moment, everything else faded. They trusted me enough to let me in — not with perfect grammar or complicated explanations, but with a small word and a few meaningful signs. And that was all we needed. I mirrored their words, offered comfort, acknowledged the feeling, and gave time. A few minutes later, after our quiet, respectful connection, they leaned in for a cuddle and told me they felt happy.

    Language in the early years is never just about words. It’s about connection, understanding, and helping children feel truly seen.

    Language as an Emotional Bridge

    From the very first gestures and babbles, communication is an emotional act. It’s how children reach out to connect — to be understood, to belong, to share their inner world. In early years settings, we are not just supporting speech and vocabulary; we’re nurturing confidence, trust, and the beginnings of self-expression.

    Whether it’s through spoken language, Makaton, body language, or imaginative play, every child deserves to be heard — in the way that makes sense for them. That means slowing down, tuning in, and remembering that listening is just as powerful as speaking.

    Supporting Early Communication

    A rich language environment isn’t one filled with endless chatter — it’s one full of meaning. Children need us to model language thoughtfully: describing what they’re doing, naming feelings, narrating the day in a gentle rhythm that helps them make sense of the world.

    In my setting, Makaton plays an important role. It gives children another way to communicate, especially when their speech is still developing or their emotions feel too big for words. It empowers them to be part of their world, not just observers of it.

    The Power of Children’s Voices

    Children are full of ideas, questions, stories, and feelings. Honouring their voices means creating space to hear them — not just when it’s convenient, but always.

    This might be pausing to really listen when a child is explaining their block tower, giving them the language to name a feeling, or simply validating their choices. Voice isn’t always verbal — sometimes it’s found in play, in art, in silence. But it’s always there.

    Respectful Narratives and the Language We Model

    Language shapes how we see others — and how they see themselves. That’s why I choose my words carefully when speaking about children, especially around them. I avoid labels, especially negative ones, and instead focus on behaviours, feelings, and needs.

    In the early years, most educators know the importance of moving away from words such as “naughty“. It’s far more constructive and respectful to focus on what a child is expressing through their behaviour — whether we’re encouraging something positive or gently guiding them away from something less helpful. Children are always more than a moment.

    Stories That Bring Us Together

    Books and stories are another powerful part of our language landscape. They build empathy, spark curiosity, and help children make sense of themselves and the world. We read every day — not just for literacy, but for connection. There is something quietly magical about a child leaning in as you read a well-loved book, their body softening as they lose themselves in story. These moments matter.

    A Final Thought

    The words we choose matter. They build connection, foster confidence, and create the emotional blueprint for how children relate to themselves and others.

    Whether we’re signing happy with a small hand gesture, whispering reassurance after a big feeling, or narrating a story in the garden, our language helps children feel safe, respected, and deeply understood.

    And that’s the beginning of everything.

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  • The Things They Teach Me

    The Things They Teach Me

    Lessons from little ones — and how they’ve helped me grow, too.

    When I began my journey in early years education, I stepped into it with open arms — ready to nurture, guide, and support children as they grew. Over the years, I’ve worked across many settings, met so many little personalities, and carried countless memories in my heart.

    But what I didn’t fully realise back then was this: the greatest growth wouldn’t just happen in the children I cared for. It would happen in me.

    With every setting I’ve worked in, every child I’ve met, every parent I’ve partnered with, I’ve learned something new — not just about early childhood, but about myself.

    And just as the children have been my greatest teachers, so too have the educators I’ve walked alongside.

    I’ve had the privilege of working with passionate, inspiring professionals whose creativity, care, and commitment have left a lasting mark on me. From the quiet strength of a calm presence to the playful spark of a well-timed idea — I’ve witnessed first-hand how powerful our impact can be when we’re connected and intentional in our practice. And like all of us, I’ve had moments that reminded me what I chose not to carry forward — lessons that nudged me closer to the practice I now hold dear. And I’m constantly reminded that when we learn from one another — the good and the hard — we grow stronger as a sector and better for the children we serve. It’s this shared journey of reflection, connection, and continuous growth that makes our work so meaningful — and so worth celebrating.

    Becoming a parent changed everything again. It shifted my lens. It softened some parts of me, strengthened others. It gave me a deeper compassion, a new kind of patience, and a far greater understanding of just how much we hold — as caregivers, as humans — in the everyday.

    Children have become my everyday teachers.

    They’ve taught me to:

    • Slow down and see magic in the mundane — in the dance of leaves, the wonder of worms, or the joy of mixing mud.
    • Let go of perfection and find meaning in mess, beauty in the becoming.
    • Value emotions, not rush them away — to make space for feelings, and show up with empathy.
    • Keep growing, just like them — wobbly step by wobbly step.

    In their play, I see purpose.
    In their words, wisdom.
    In their trust, a reminder that this work we do matters deeply.

    We speak often of preparing children for the world — but the truth is, they prepare us for something, too. They awaken something in us: a gentleness, a presence, a purpose. Now, with each passing year, I realise how much I’m still learning — how much more whole I am because of the children and educators who’ve walked through my life.

    So, whether you’re a parent, an educator, or someone who shares space with children, I hope you remember this: you are shaping them, yes.
    But they are shaping you too — in the most beautiful, unseen ways.

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  • Filling Their Banks: How Tiny Moments Build a Kinder World

    Filling Their Banks: How Tiny Moments Build a Kinder World

    here’s a beautiful analogy I heard recently that’s stayed with me ever since. It came from Gable House Nursery, and it goes like this:
    Every child has a bank.
    As early years educators, we are responsible for filling it — with moments, memories, first experiences, and feelings that will shape their inner world for the rest of their lives.

    And when I heard that, I thought: Yes. That’s it. That’s exactly what we do.

    We may not always realise it in the rush of routines or the mess of muddy wellies — but every time we kneel down to listen, every time we sit beside a child in their joy or frustration, every time we make space for their questions, their wonder, their play — we are making a deposit.

    And these deposits matter. Because one day, when that child grows up and the world feels hard or uncertain, they’ll have something to draw on. A sense of worth. A memory of being loved. An instinct that tells them: You are seen. You are safe. You are enough.

    That’s the kind of investment we’re making.

    And perhaps more than ever, our world needs that.
    It needs children who grow up feeling emotionally full — so they don’t spend adulthood searching for what they never received. It needs children who’ve known kindness, patience and acceptance — so they can carry those things forward into their relationships, communities, and choices.

    Because when we fill a child’s bank, we’re not just shaping one little life — we’re shaping the future.

    But it’s not just about emotional deposits. It’s also about broadening their world — offering children meaningful experiences that build their sense of identity, connection, and possibility.
    This is the heart of cultural capital — those precious moments and encounters that help children make sense of the world around them, feel part of something bigger, and grow into themselves with confidence.

    So how do we do that? How do we fill these invisible banks in ways that truly last?

    These do not always need to be found in grand gestures or expensive outings.
    But with the tiny, ordinary, everyday things — and by offering children experiences they may never have had the chance to encounter before:
    • The thrill of splashing in a muddy puddle for the very first time.
    • The wonder of holding a snail, planting a seed, or mixing a cake from scratch.
    • The discovery of new words, new stories, new rhythms — shared across cultures and generations.
    • The joy of belonging — of being part of a celebration, a tradition, a shared moment of meaning.

    These are powerful forms of cultural capital — experiences that enrich, connect, and help children feel rooted in both who they are and who they’re becoming.

    They may also be found in those moments of connection, those moments that you show a child they truly matter, how much you care, and how special they are:

    • The warm eye contact when they tell a story.
    • The unhurried time spent spotting worms or clouds.
    • The quiet “I see you” in moments of struggle.
    • The comfort of routines, the spark of curiosity, the laughter that bubbles up mid-play.
    • The way we believe in them — even when they’re still learning how to believe in themselves.

    These are also the real riches of childhood.
    These are the moments that stay.

    We may never see the full impact of our work — not in certificates, not in test scores.
    But we see it in their joy, their growth, and the beautiful, kind-hearted humans they are becoming.

    So to all of you who show up for children — educators, childminders, parents, grandparents, key workers and co-regulators — thank you.
    Thank you for every tiny deposit. For every ounce of emotional labour. For every patient pause and playful invitation.

    You are building a kinder world.
    One connection, one moment, one full little bank at a time.

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  • Dandelion Sensory Playdough – Simple Play to Spark Big Magic

    Dandelion Sensory Playdough – Simple Play to Spark Big Magic

    This nature-inspired sensory activity is perfect for spring and celebrates the simple joy of playing with what the season offers. Using dandelions collected by the children, we create homemade playdough together — combining fine motor skills, sensory exploration, and a love for nature in one calming invitation to play.

    You will need:

    • Collected dandelions (Just make sure to leave some for the butterflies and bees – Dandelions are the most important first nectar and pollen sources for beneficial insects).

    (Here is a basic homemade playdough we use but there are many other simple recipes available and other methods of making it, that you may like to try or adapt)

    • 2 cups plain flour
    • 1 cup salt
    • 2 tbsp cream of tartar
    • 2 tbsp oil
    • 1.5-2 cups hot water cooked over a low heat
    • Optional: A few drops of lemon or lavender essential oil for additional scent

    How to make it:

    1. Prepare the dandelions: Let the children help gently pull apart the petals — this is a sensory experience in itself!
    2. In a bowl, mix the dry ingredients together and 1/2 of the dandelion petals.
    3. Add the oil and hot water and stir over a low heat until it forms a dough (please remember to discuss safety rules with your Young Ones if they are using the hob – there are also no cook recipes that you can use, if you are not able to safely cook your dough).
    4. Add the remaining dandelion petals and knead well (once suitably cooled).
    5. Enjoy the gentle texture and sensory experience!

    Creating an invitation to spark curiosity and excitement – Suggestion for a natural and simple invitation to play… Offer the dandelion playdough with natural loose parts (sticks, pebbles, leaves, pine cones, more dandelions, small wooden bowls and/or cutters)
    No agenda, just open-ended sensory play.

    Learning Outcomes:

    • Understanding the natural world – identifying and gathering seasonal flowers. You can also use this as an opportunity to learn more about this amazing plant… For example: did you know the whole of a dandelion is edible and it actually contains more nutrients than most common vegetables (how amazing is that)?!
    • Fine motor development – Mixing, kneading, moulding, squishing, rolling, and pinching playdough strengthens small muscles in the hands and fingers, which supports handwriting and other fine motor tasks. That’s without mentioning the hand-eye co-ordination and fine motor skills used to collect and pull apart the dandelions.
    • Sensory exploration – engaging touch, smell and sight in calming ways.
    • Language and communication – talking about textures, colours and the nature around them. Sensory play is also a great opportunity to incorporate new language and to use lots of fantastic adjectives.
    • Emotional wellbeing – using nature-based play to ground, relax and calm.
    • Creativity and Imagination – Children can create anything from insects and animals, to imaginary creatures, encouraging imaginative play and storytelling.

    This activity is as much about the process as the product. It encourages connection, mindfulness, and creativity — while nurturing a lifelong love for nature, right from the earliest years.

    🌼 Because the biggest memories are often made in the smallest, most natural moments.

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    Georgina Young – Early Years Specialist

  • The Unfair Rule 

    The Unfair Rule 

    Being a great childminder,

    Is the most rewarding job.

    But there is an unfair ruling,

    That makes us all want to sob. 

    Anyone in our family,

    Cannot use us for childcare.

    Because they can’t claim funding,

    It’s incredibly unfair! 

    The parents have the added stress,

    They need to find a new setting.

    But the fact that it can’t be us,

    Leads to anxiety and fretting! 

    The little ones they suffer,

    They don’t get our love and care.

    They miss out on our teachings,

    Because they simply can’t be there.

    Or we have to give a free place,

    Yet we have a set ratio.

    So we struggle financially,

    It feels like quite a blow!

    We still have all our bills to pay,

    How will we make ends meet?!!

    Do I not take on my family,

    Or do I simply not eat?! 

    Now we don’t want to cheat the system,

    So when will the government see?!

    We just want fair childcare choices,

    And to help our family! 

    ©️ – Poem by Georgina Young – Guiding The Young Ones

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  • Easy Ideas for Supporting Babies’ Development

    Easy Ideas for Supporting Babies’ Development

    Simple Play for Big Development

    Looking for easy, engaging ideas to support your baby’s development? These sensory-rich, baby-safe activities don’t require fancy equipment – just a bit of imagination and they’re all perfect for bonding and learning through play. Each one also supports key areas of your baby’s early development.

    1. Sensory Bottles

    Fill clear plastic bottles with materials like coloured water and oil, rice and beads or natural treasures. Make sure lids are tightly sealed.

    🧠 Supports:

    • Sensory development (visual and auditory stimulation)
    • Physical development (grasping, shaking, tummy time interaction)
    • Cognitive development (tracking, cause and effect)

    2. Tummy Time Treasure Mat

    Place safe textured items (like ribbons, foil (foil blankets from first aid kits work great), soft fabric etc) under a clear mat or a taped-down zip-lock bag for babies to look at and reach for during tummy time.

    🧠 Supports:

    • Physical development (neck and upper body strength)
    • Sensory development (touch, sight)
    • Personal, social & emotional (encouragement and praise during play)

    3. Bubble Fun

    Blow bubbles while your baby watches and reaches for them. Try singing while they float down for added fun!

    🧠 Supports:

    • Communication & language (listening and responding to singing or speech)
    • Physical development (hand-eye coordination, tracking movement)
    • Cognitive development (understanding movement and patterns)

    4. High-Contrast Picture Time

    Show black and white or high-contrast images in books or homemade cards. Let babies look, reach and react.

    🧠 Supports:

    • Visual development (tracking, contrast recognition)
    • Cognitive development (memory, attention span)
    • Communication & language (early sound play as you describe what they see)

    5. Sing & Sign Sessions

    Use simple songs and nursery rhymes alongside Makaton or hand gestures to support communication from an early age.

    🧠 Supports:

    • Communication & language (early vocabulary, non-verbal communication)
    • Personal, social & emotional (bonding, responsive interaction)
    • Expressive arts & design (music and rhythm appreciation)

    6. Treasure Baskets (Supervised)

    Offer a shallow basket with safe household objects of different materials (e.g. wooden spoon, sponge, ribbon, silicone whisk) for your baby to explore.

    🧠 Supports:

    • Sensory development (texture, shape, and sound exploration)
    • Physical development (reaching, grasping, fine motor skills)
    • Cognitive development (exploring through trial and error)

    7. Peek-a-Boo Play

    Play peek-a-boo using your hands, a scarf, or a soft book—babies love the surprise and repetition!

    🧠 Supports:

    • Cognitive development (object permanence)
    • Personal, social & emotional (bonding, emotional responses)
    • Communication & language (responsive interactions, anticipation)

    Remember: Simple, responsive play is powerful. These moments of connection support not just your baby’s development, but your relationship too.

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