Why I Don’t Dumb Things Down for My Son

by Alexander Tidd

I talk to my four-year-old like he’s a full-grown adult. There, I said it.

Not in the "let's chat about mortgage refinancing over mac and cheese" kind of way. But if I’m being honest, I’ve always spoken to him the way I speak to pretty much anyone else. I don’t soften my voice or swap out big words for baby ones. I don’t say “owie” unless he says it first. And when he asks a question that could lead to a rabbit hole of nuance, I go there. We take the scenic route through the answer instead of hopping off at the first easy stop.

It’s not because I’m trying to raise the next child prodigy. It’s not even because I think I’m smarter than other parents. It’s just that, from the beginning, my gut told me he could handle it.

And you know what? He can.

He Gets It More Than You Think

I still remember explaining the concept of the ocean tide to him at age three. He asked why the waves come in and go out. I could have said, “The moon pulls the water like magic.” But instead, I explained gravitational pull in the simplest terms I could muster. His eyes got wide. He asked if the moon was like a magnet. Pretty close, kid.

Kids are curious. They don’t want to be talked down to. They want to be invited up. When we use real language with them and trust their capacity to understand, they often rise to the occasion.

In our house, he knows what “consequence” means. He understands the difference between “disappointed” and “angry.” And he’s heard me use words like “context” and “negotiation” enough that now he tries them out on me when bedtime rolls around.

Is he still four? Oh yes. There are plenty of times he shrugs and says, “Can you say that again but in a way that makes more sense to my brain?” But that is exactly the point. The asking. The trying. The expanding.

But Don’t Get Me Wrong, He’s Still a Kid

Before someone says it, yes. I do know he’s a child. I’m not giving lectures on constitutional law before nap time. I’m not launching into a TED Talk on economic inequality when he asks why some kids have more toys than others.

There is something beautiful and necessary about talking to kids on their level. Using playful voices, singing instructions, narrating the world in silly rhymes—that’s all part of helping them feel safe, connected, and loved. I do all of that too. I just don’t believe it has to come at the cost of using real language or honest answers.

The truth is, I often shift gears depending on the mood, the setting, or the size of the meltdown. When he’s tired, I keep it light. When he’s calm and curious, we dig in. It’s not a rigid philosophy. It’s a relationship.

There’s a whole school of thought that encourages speaking to children with what’s called “child-directed speech.” This includes higher pitches, simpler vocabulary, and exaggerated tone. Research shows that babies, especially, respond really well to this kind of talking. It helps them recognize patterns and engage with language more easily.

Then there’s another camp that says using rich language—even complex sentence structures—can supercharge a child’s vocabulary and cognitive growth. Studies have shown that children exposed to more words, especially diverse ones, tend to develop stronger language skills over time.

So which is right? Honestly, probably both.

Language is not just about vocabulary. It’s about connection. It’s about tone and presence and attention. You can speak “like an adult” and still be loving, patient, and completely tuned in. You can also use silly words and sound effects and still teach them something valuable.

The important thing is not whether you say “ouchie” or “that looks painful.” It’s whether you’re listening back when they talk.

What I Hope He Learns

More than anything, I want my son to know that he is taken seriously. That his questions deserve real answers. That he doesn’t have to wait until he’s older to start engaging with big ideas. I want him to grow up feeling like the world is something he can explore, not something he needs to grow into first.

And if he grows up with a strong vocabulary along the way? Great. But more importantly, if he grows up feeling like his thoughts matter, like he can ask hard questions and sit with complicated answers, then I’ll feel like I’ve done something right.

We spend a lot of time worrying about whether our kids will be smart enough. But maybe the better question is whether they’ll feel confident enough to be curious. Whether they’ll have the courage to say, “I don’t get it, but I want to.”

So I’ll keep talking to my son like he’s a person. Because he is one. A small one, a wiggly one, and sometimes a sticky one—but a whole person nonetheless.