Adults understand what it feels like to be flooded with objects. Why do we often believe that more is better when it comes to kids and their things? The good news is that I can help my own kids learn how to live more with less earlier than I did.

I found the pre—holidays a good time to encourage young children to donate less—used things, and it worked. Because of our efforts, our daughter Georgia did decide to donate a large bag of toys to a little girl whose mother was unable to pay for her holiday due to illness. She chose to sell a few larger objects that were less often used when we promised to put the money into her school fund (基金)——our kindergarten daughter is serious about becoming a doctor.

For weeks, I've been thinking of bigger, deeper questions: How do we make it a habit for them? And how do we train ourselves to help them live with need, and use less?Yesterday, I sat with my son, Shepherd, determined to test my own theory on this. I decided to play with him with only one toy for as long as it would keep his interest. I expected that one toy would keep his attention for about five minutes, ten minutes, at most. I chose a red rubber ball——the simplest and most common toy. We passed it, he tried to put it in his mouth, and he tried bouncing it, rolling it, sitting on it, throwing it. It was totally, completely enough for him. Before I knew it an hour had passed and it was time to move on to lunch.

We were both lost in the simplicity of playing together. He had my full attention and I had his. My little experiment to find joy in a single object worked for both of us.

My Lost Summer

Have you ever used a needle(针) and thread(线) to sew(缝纫)? What did you think of it?

When I was a little boy, my mom, grandmother and I drove to my grandmother’s sister’s house in the next town. It was a warm summer afternoon, I went outside to play in the yard while they all sat around the kitchen table to talk.

After an hour of playing by myself, I got bored and walked inside to see what they were doing.

On the kitchen table was a large homemade quilt that was still being sewn together. Pieces of colorful cloth were everywhere. I sat in a chair and watched as my great aunt sewed a little piece of cloth onto the quilt. I looked over at one edge of the quilt and saw a piece of thread sticking out. Without thinking, I reached over to pull it.

“No! ” It was my grandmother’s voice. I jumped back. That was the first time I can ever remember her yelling at me. Seeing the frightened look on my face, she smiled and showed me why she had yelled. That single piece of thread wove (穿行)in and out of the different pieces of cloth.

Like a twisting road, it made its way from one end of the quilt to the other. If I pulled on it, I would have pulled the quilt apart and ruined (毁掉) hours of work.

As I look back on that moment today, I can see that each of our lives is a lot like that thread in the quilt. We are each a single piece of thread, but the other threads around us help hold everything together. That’s our purpose—help and support the people around us.