Kids and Curiosity (and Why I’ve Stopped Trying to Answer Every Question)

If you’ve ever spent time around kids, you already know this: they ask questions nonstop. Some days it feels sweet and funny, and other days it feels like your brain is being gently but repeatedly poked with a stick.

Why is the moon following us?
Why can’t dogs talk?
Why is water wet?

Most of the time, I don’t even have proper answers. And for a long time, that made me feel like I was doing something wrong. Like I should know more. Like I should be better prepared. But honestly? I’ve learned that not having all the answers isn’t the problem. Sometimes it’s actually the point.

Kids aren’t asking questions because they expect a perfect explanation. They’re asking because their minds are busy. They’re noticing things. They’re trying to make sense of a world that’s still very new to them. And that curiosity is something we should protect, not rush through just to get to the next task on the to-do list.

I used to answer questions quickly just to move on. A short explanation, a distracted “because that’s how it is,” and done. But I started noticing something. When I slowed down and didn’t rush the answer, kids stayed interested longer. They thought more. Sometimes they even answered their own question out loud, which was kind of amazing to watch.

One afternoon, a child asked me why some bugs come out at night. I didn’t know. Instead of pretending I did, I said that. We guessed together. We were wrong at first, which made it even funnier. Later we looked it up, but by then the real learning had already happened. The thinking part. The wondering part.

I think adults underestimate how much kids learn just by being allowed to think out loud. Not everything has to turn into a lesson. Not everything needs a worksheet or an explanation that makes sense immediately. Sometimes curiosity just needs space.

Books help with this a lot. Not just reading them, but talking about them. Asking strange questions. Letting kids imagine different endings. Letting them say things that don’t quite make sense yet. That “yet” part matters.

Free play matters too. The kind with no clear goal. No right answer. A pile of random stuff on the floor and time to mess with it. It looks chaotic, but there’s a lot happening in their heads. Planning. Testing. Changing their minds. Getting frustrated. Trying again.

I’ve also realized kids copy what they see. If adults never ask questions, kids eventually stop asking them too. When they see us googling things, trying new things, admitting we don’t know something, it gives them permission to do the same.

Curiosity doesn’t mean raising kids who always have answers. It means raising kids who aren’t afraid to ask. Who aren’t embarrassed to wonder. Who don’t shut down just because something is confusing at first.

So now, when a kid asks a question and I’m tired or busy or distracted, I try to pause. Not every time. I’m human too. But more often than before. Because those questions won’t last forever. One day they slow down. And when they do, I want to know I didn’t rush through them all.