Guiding The Young Ones

Tag: love

  • Beyond the Snapshot 

    Beyond the Snapshot 

    How we long for you to see,
    The futures grown with love, so free.
    In settings big, in settings small,
    We nurture, guide, and give our all.

    How we wish you saw the joy,
    Shaped by patience, love, and toil.
    The endless hours, the years of play,
    The care poured in, day after day.

    But you arrive and only view,
    A fleeting snapshot — an hour or two.
    A single moment, a passing glance,
    And yet from this, you cast your stance.

    How we wish you understood,
    The sleepless nights, the endless ‘shoulds’.
    The shadow cast, the constant weight,
    Of knowing one grade can seal our fate.

    You’ll never see the whispered song,
    The gentle hand when days feel long.
    The battles fought, the fears made small,
    The love that underpins it all.

    This work is heart, it’s sweat, it’s tears,
    It’s hope invested through the years.
    And yet reduced, unfairly guessed,
    By one short visit, one-day test.

    Yes — hold us to account with care,
    But meet us with respect that’s fair.
    A system shaped to guide, not take,
    To honour all that is at stake.

    So, together we raise this hopeful plea:
    There’s so much more than what you see.
    See children thriving, futures bright,
    Held in our hands, our hearts, our light.

    ©️ – Poem by The Young Ones Childminding 

    *A poem for the Early Years and Education sector, on the unseen weight of inspection, for those who promote, protect and inspire play — written by Georgina Young (The Young Ones Childminding) 

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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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    • 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 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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    • A Message of Love for All the Tired Mums, Dads, Carers and Guardians Out There…

      A Message of Love for All the Tired Mums, Dads, Carers and Guardians Out There…

      Parenting is tough. There’s no denying it. Yes, there are so many beautiful, joyful moments, but let’s be honest – there are also some really hard ones. Our little ones don’t come with a manual (how amazing would that be?), and it’s okay to just be doing your best.

      It’s okay if you gave the children cereal for dinner because you were too exhausted to cook a full meal. You’re not failing; your little ones are fed and loved. It’s okay to put the TV on for a bit so you can rest, even if just for a moment. It’s okay to ask for help when you need it. It’s okay to take a break. It’s okay to take things one day at a time.

      Please, don’t forget that self-care is essential. You can’t pour from an empty cup! You’re doing your best, and that is more than enough. You will make mistakes – that’s part of being human. There are no perfect children and there are no perfect parents. We are all learning, all the time. Every single day.

      Feeling guilty sometimes is completely normal. Embrace that feeling and then let it go. The fact that you worry even a little bit shows you’re doing an amazing job! So give yourself a break, trust yourself more, and remember: you are wonderful.

      To your child, you are their world. Your love and care mean everything to them. Keep going – you are doing so much better than you think.

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      • Spring hygge 

        Spring hygge 

        A change in the weather,

        As spring comes along,

        Buds blooming on trees,

        As the birds sing their song. 

        The sun is shining,

        High up in the sky,

        The insects reappearing,

        And catching our eye. 

        Back out come the microscopes,

        As we search for more bugs,

        Laughter fills the air, 

        Fun and happiness hugs. 

        The array of bright colours,

        As flowers start to bloom,

        Exploring lifecycles,

        Watch metamorphosis resume. 

        There is so much to learn,

        As spring fills the air,

        But most importantly with nature ,

        It’s important we care. 

        ©️ – Poem by Georgina Young – Guiding The Young Ones 

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      • Forever My Child

        Forever My Child

        I prayed every bedtime,

        For a special child like you.

        And when I saw your sweet face,

        No one else’s would do.

        Your skin was all wrinkled,

        Your lip all tucked in.

        Just seeing you was,

        The happiest I’ve been. 

        You’ve cried and you yelled

        You’ve pooped and been sick.

        Youve thrown the odd tantrum,

        And thrown the odd fit.

        But if you ask if I love you, 

        Of course I always do.

        There is nobody on earth,

        Quite as special as you.

        I love every freckle,

        I love every curl.

        I love every giggle,

        You are my whole world.

        I love every second with you,

        I treasure each smile,

        You’re my reason for living,

        You make life worthwhile.

        But you’re growing up quickly,

        And soon you’ll take flight.

        And I’ll be alone,

        With my memories each night.

        But no matter how far,

        Or how big you may be.

        You’ll always be little,

        When you’re safe here with me.

        ©️ – Poem by Georgina Young – Guiding The Young Ones

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      • A Poem for My First Child

        A Poem for My First Child

        Before there was you,

        Life had less stress.

        No constant worries,

        No cleaning your mess.

        Before there was you,

        I could have a lie in.

        Not up at dawn,

        Taking nappies to the bin.

        Before there was you,

        I could shower alone.

        Stay out til late,

        Spend hours on the phone.

        Before there was you,

        I could choose my tv.

        Instead I watch Mr tumble,

        Each day on repeat.

        Before there was you,

        I could get ready at leisure.

        But my love for you now-

        I simply can’t measure.

        My life has changed completely,

        But this much is true.

        I never knew pure love,

        Until I had you.

        Suddenly you’re not a baby,

        And I’m sat asking why.

        And how we take for granted,

        How fast years go by.

        So I will treasure each second,

        Each sweet memory,

        Because always in my heart,

        You’ll be my baby.

        ©️ – Poem by Georgina Young – Guiding The Young Ones

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