Reparenting Myself in the Aisles of Walmart

Last night, as I was driving home alone, a realization hit me—I had been reparenting myself earlier in the evening.

Let me explain.

I had taken my older daughter, Kenzie, and her two goddaughters to Walmart. As we walked into the store, Kenzie was about to put the girls in the cart, but something in me resisted. Instead, I held out my hands and said, “Come on, grab on!” And just like that, we ran off together, giggling and skipping through the aisles while Kenzie handled the shopping.

At one point, we decided to be spies. We threw on sunglasses and sun hats, creeping behind Kenzie in our best secret-agent mode, stifling giggles as we trailed her through the store. It was pure, unfiltered fun.

And then, on my drive home, it hit me: I was giving myself the childhood I never had.

Growing up, I rarely got to let loose like that. Outings were structured, serious, and full of unspoken rules. Of course, there’s a time and place for kids to be quiet and respectful, but life doesn’t always have to be strict and serious. There’s room for play. There’s room for laughter. There’s room for joy.

Seeing the girls’ faces light up as they laughed with abandon was everything. And by the end of the trip, even Kenzie—who had started the night in full-on “responsible adult” mode—had softened, her own laughter slipping through.

That night, I wasn’t just playing with them. I was healing something in myself. I was reparenting the little girl inside me—the one who didn’t always get to be carefree, who had to be mindful and careful too often.

Sometimes, healing doesn’t come in big, dramatic moments. Sometimes, it looks like a spontaneous game of spies in the middle of Walmart.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s enough.