What My Toddler Taught Me About Leadership This Week

It is just not always about answers, sometimes it's patience, presence and curiosity.

“In-ter-es-ting,” Nyah muttered softly, each syllable pronounced with such conviction that I softened immediately. It occurred to me she might have just learned this word today. I found myself immediately softening. Only a few seconds prior, I finally gave up wondering what was it now that is thwarting the bedtime routine yet again because Nyah was on her 30th second of just staring into the white abyss of the ever-not-so-interesting potty.

“What are you seeing? What’s interesting?” I ask, equally quizzical, debating if this will be my last attempt at the ‘Montessori, gentle parenting’ approach to the ‘teach-able twos’ before declaring class over, regardless of her answer.

“Bubbles!! Right there.” Ever so empathically pointing to the yes, bubbles, in the toilet that had formed around the basin of the sitting water. She was, indeed, watching the bubbles. Maybe even attempting to count all the bubbles? There must have been over 200 because they were the tiny ones, like seltzer. And unbeknownst to me, I actually thought to myself, I don’t think I’ve ever peered close enough to see and confirm that yes indeed bubbles form in the sitting toilet water between flushes.

As Nyah stared into those bubbles, I felt my instinct to rush us forward. Oh, what now. Let’s just get this bedtime over with, was thumping in my subconscious But her curiosity reminded me that slowing down doesn’t mean losing control—it means creating space for growth.

This is where I also am leaning into tender self-compassion and also acknowledge that there was a very large part of me that wanted to snap and say “no, Nyah, I cannot explain why there are bubbles in your potty, for the love of God can you please climb onto the potty…”. I desperately want to skip past the curiosity and back to enforcing my next task our consistent bedtime routine: the last potty try of the evening. (Also, shout out to my other formidable toddler parent who attempt to stick theirs everyday.)

In leadership, I’ve found that curiosity is often the unsung hero. It’s asking, What do you see? What’s interesting? instead of jumping straight to answers or solutions.

It helped that interesting is a 4-syllable word I’ve never heard Nyah say before, because I already was pausing to have a silent chuckle and make a mental note to share this moment with my wife. Nyah’s fascination with something as simple as bubbles reminded me that the best leaders don’t just teach—they listen. They pause long enough to see what others are seeing, even when it feels inconvenient or exhausting.

I cox her up to sit “on top of the bubbles”, promising that in exchange for cooperation, I will continue to supply her tiny toddle brain with an in-depth analysis on why it’s ok to “pee-pee” on top of the bubbles, and prepare her for when we will be saying “bye-bye” to these bubbles after we flush.

Parenting is a trip, man. I knew it would be. Okay, understatement; I absolutely knew it would be. But that does not take away the miraculousness of watching, in real time, the world that Nyah once knew to be true E X P A N D. This in turn means what I once knew to be true about my own world has changed. The way I previously experienced the tiny human in front of me can also E X P A N D.

If you had told me this morning that today’s bedtime delay tactic would involve Nyah cleaning the toilet, I am not sure I would have believed you. The ROI for children helping with bathroom chores couldn’t possible be realized until age 5, right? Today I legit watched my Virgo daughter insist that only she scrub the tiny poop stains off the inside of the toilet from yesterday’s poop party. Anytime a potty-training toddler poops in the toilet and not in her diaper its a massive moment of celebration—huge tings. But the exciting culmination of yesterday’s last potty try of the evening might have skipped a few important bits of context. I should rewind here.

For bedtime, my wife and I have set days of the week for who puts Nyah down in order lower the cognitive load (and thus start the day mentally prepared to partake in mind-to-mind combat for overcoming Nyah’s last delay tactics of the day). Yesterday was Tuesday, and a truly rough day for Amani. I offered to do bedtime. If on scale of 1 to 10, 10 being i dgaf about the how because ends justified the means, and 1 being she fell asleep in the car and didn’t wake up when you placed her in her crib, each number in-between is a completely different energy tradeoff with the devil to get to the endgoal of a sleeping toddler.

Tuesday was a 5. Not too wild, but yes I was asked to tuck each stuffy in after Nyah so everyone was warm and could sleep while stifling a laugh at the creativity. I definitely caved when she asked for two songs for the dance party, but was firm when I let her know two dance party songs meant only one book. However, because she did a great job listening, she gets to choose the single book and it can be a long one.

Today?!?! Dude, she cleaned our toilet. Unless time were the only measure, I feel like I have to say today was a 2. Yes, I did a LOT of explaining about why there might be bubbles in the toilet water, but because she spent so much time watching those bubbles, her Virgo heart-center was extremely unsettled why any part of her poop from yesterday was still looking back at her. The concept of dried poop hadn’t been something she ever knew could exist since she’s had under 5 poops in the potty in her lifetime. Sadly, he impact of letting her mind expand in this way meant 5 more minutes of me explaining. Bedtime and thus a child-free evening became yet another 5 minutes more out of reach. All this in exchange for the deep pleasure of me teaching her two-year-old mind. Alas, there’s so much joy in watching her simply connecting more dots.

“Being a big girl means pooping in the potty, not in your diaper.” I comment.

“No diaper!” Nyah concurs with big gusto, a buffed out chest.

In hopes to get us back on track, I quickly add, “It’s okay that there’s a little poop in the potty from yesterday. There’s so much reason to celebrate. Remember how last night we had a poop party? We blasted PJ Panda’s You Did It! Sometimes flushing doesn’t take away all the poop, but that’s okay because we can flush again!”

But with the calm tenacity and silly grin that only a newly-determined toddler who has connected two ideas can concoct, Nyah cocks her head to the side, puts her hands on her hips, and exclaims: “MOMMA, WIPE IT UP!!!! NYAH DO IT!!!!!” and sprints out of the bathroom.

Parenting and leadership both demand patience—not the kind that passively waits for things to unfold, but the kind that sets boundaries and builds trust.

Curiosity creates connection. Patience builds trust. Boundaries protect energy. And at the heart of it all is a willingness to grow—whether it’s alongside a toddler, a teammate, or even yourself.

When Nyah sprinted out of the bathroom to grab God knows what since her cleaning supplies are in the kitchen, I had to laugh. She was claiming her independence in the most determined way possible, and while it slowed us down, it also showed me what happens when boundaries and curiosity meet. I’m slowly inviting myself to savor these moments of growth, even if they mean sacrificing a little of my own comfort and control over “the most optimized, efficient, and streamlined” bedtime routine.

As a leader, I try to hold that same tension: being patient enough to let others learn and bold enough to say, Here’s where I stop so you can take it from here.