The Connecting Powers of ‘Magical Questions‘

“The wilderness holds answers to questions we have not yet learned to ask.”

— Nancy Newhall 

Let’s play a quick game. You say “Why?” four times in a row. I’ll respond like a parent who’s had one too many cups of coffee and one too few hours of sleep:

“Why is the sky blue?” “Because of the atmosphere.”

“Why does the atmosphere do that?” “Science.”

“Why science?” “Because it just is.”

“Why is it just is?” “…Please go ask your father.”

Sound familiar?

Ah yes, the endless loop of “why?”, “how?”, and “what if?” that turns a peaceful car ride into a TED Talk you didn’t sign up for.

But here’s the catch: That annoying question? That’s the spark of learning.

Before Google, before Siri, before “Hey Alexa,” there was… your child and they were born wired to wonder.

From the moment they could talk, they’ve been on a mission to make sense of the world—one question at a time. And as exhausting as it is (especially when you’re just trying to brush your teeth in peace), this curiosity is how the brain builds connections.

When your child asks questions, they’re literally shaping their brain’s architecture. And not with facts, but with the process of wondering, guessing, testing, and discovering.

You don’t need to be a walking encyclopedia. In fact, it’s better if you’re not.

When we rush to answer every question, we accidentally train kids to look to us for all the answers, instead of looking inside themselves to figure things out.

What if, instead, you turned the question back to them?

“Huh, why is the sky blue? What do you think?”

“That’s such an interesting question. Want to look it up together?”

“Let’s see if we can test that out somehow.”

Suddenly, the conversation becomes collaborative. You’re not the dispenser of answers—you’re the co-adventurer in their quest.

Real learning looks like this and here’s what letting curiosity lead might look like:

Your child wonders what happens if you freeze orange juice. You hand them a popsicle mold and say, “Let’s find out.”

They ask why ants line up in a row. You grab a cracker, break it into crumbs, and conduct an ant experiment on the patio.

They want to know how rainbows work. You hold a glass of water up to the sun and make a mini rainbow on the kitchen wall.

No tests. No lectures. No rigid plans.

Just… questions. Followed by experience and experimentation. (And possibly a few sticky kitchen counters. Worth it.)

Quick Tips On How to Practice

1. Resist the urge to answer right away.

Pause. Play dumb (in a fun way). Ask them what they think.

2. Pick one question a day and lean into it.

Get messy. Get silly. Google it together. Try it out.

3. Create a “Wonder Wall.”

Literally or metaphorically. A space where they can write or draw all their weird and wonderful questions. Then pick one to explore together each week.

Learning doesn’t begin with instruction. It begins with curiosity. And you don’t have to teach it. You just have to not squash it.

So the next time you hear “Why is the moon following us?”—take a breath, smile, and remember: That’s not a distraction, that’s the lesson.

And who knows you’ll probably learn something too. (Like how much you’ve forgotten since high school biology.)

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