A couple of months ago, I was setting up for one of my kids’ shows, hauling out the PA, running cables, tuning my guitar, the usual pre-show shuffle. While I was getting everything ready, this little boy, maybe five or six years old, came up and started firing off questions.
“What’s that?”
“Oh, that’s the mixer.”
“What’s that do?”
“Well, that’s how I make my guitar and voice sound good through the speakers.”
And on and on we went.
He was curious about everything, cables, speakers, knobs, buttons, you name it. I was having a great time chatting with him. Honestly, I love talking about music and gear, whether it’s with a six-year-old or a sixty-year-old.
Meanwhile, his mom was doing the polite parent thing and gently tugging at his sleeve, saying, “Come on, let’s leave him alone. He needs to set up.”
She was sweet, and I get it. She didn’t want her son to be a bother. But I kept reassuring her, “It’s okay! He’s fine.” Because to me, this kind of curiosity isn’t an interruption, it’s the good stuff.
I’ve got a four-year-old and a seven-year-old at home, so I’m very familiar with the constant stream of questions. Sometimes it’s a lot, sure. But I try to answer every single one. And when I don’t know the answer, I’ll say, “Let’s look it up together.” Those moments, the ones where you admit you don’t know but you’re willing to find out, those are gold.
As you may know, I didn’t grow up like that. I was the quiet kid. I had what you might call a natural gift for keeping my mouth shut. I didn’t ask questions. I just figured the adults didn’t want to be bothered.
But now, as a parent, and as someone who works with kids every week, I see how dangerous that can be. Because for every child who’s naturally curious, there’s a moment where they might be told (or shown) that their questions are too much. That they’re being annoying. That the grown-ups are too busy, and that’s heartbreaking. When a kid asks a question, they’re not just looking for information, they’re looking for connection.
So when a child comes to you with a million little “whys” and “hows”, answer the questions. Even if you don’t have the perfect response. Especially if you don’t.
Let them see you wonder.
Let them see you think.
Let them see you learn.
When we answer their questions, we’re doing more than feeding their curiosity. We’re teaching them that their voice matters, that their thoughts have value.
And who knows? You might just learn something new yourself.
So yeah, answer the questions. Every single one.