Thick curved lines and straight angles danced on a red background. Pointing to the painting, I said, “It’s part of a series of paintings called ‘Playground.’ That one reminds me of a teeter-totter.”

Studying the painting, my four-year-old (nicknamed Sprout) piped up, “That one reminds me of a slide!”

“Yeah, it does!” I replied.

At the next painting, we read that Paul Klee painted bold dots because he liked Bach’s bass notes. So I played classical music low on my phone so we could recognize the similarities. In other places in the Phillips Museum, we stood in silence to take in the singular colors of Rothko, discussed how artists sometimes paint what they’re feeling instead of objects, and boogied in front of an Edward Hopper painting of train tracks.

It may seem odd to bring a preschooler to a modern art museum. It may seem even odder that he looked forward the trip. But we didn’t go because I’m a tiger mom or think he’s an art genius. (In fact, I have no idea what the heck his pictures are most of the time.)

Instead, this trip was one of the many ways I show love to him.

We started doing one-on-one afternoons with the kids at the beginning of the year. While we adore family time, we thought it would be good to build our individual parent-child relationships as well. So far, Sprout has clambered up a giant pretend mountain with me and fed ducks at the local outdoor mall with my husband. My younger son has painted with me at home, one of his favorite and messiest activities.

Each time, I’ve seen new facets of my kids that I miss or are obscured when we’re together. Sprout’s mind and body calms when he’s not competiting with his little brother for attention. Little Bird (his brother) can luxuriate in time just with Mama that he always wants but rarely has. It’s amazing how knowing you have a parent’s undivided attention makes a kid more independent.

They’ve been able to see other sides of me too. Even when both my husband and I are available, both of them usually want my attention, not his. As a result, I often feel torn or at least constantly needed. My mind is never quite quiet enough to truly focus. When it’s just two of us, I can fully be present for them and even present for myself.

For Sprout, these have also offered opportunities to do “big kid” things his brother isn’t old enough for yet. In the museum itself and the cafe where we had hot chocolate afterwards, we were able to have real, albeit simple, conversations about art. He was unquestionably more thoughtful because he knew being there was a special privilege.

But why an art museum? It’s another way of sharing beautiful things that I love with my child. The world can be such a dark and difficult place. One of the only ways to deal with that harshness is to seek and appreciate its beauty. When we go hiking, we look at the bulbous mushrooms on logs and take in sweeping vistas. At church, we point out the stained glass that tells the stories of creation. While reading books, we share the little details – like the train made out of bread loaves in the city of In the Night Kitchen. On the way back to the Metro, we gazed up at the cherry blossoms drifting off the trees above. For me, sharing art that I love is another way to revel in that beauty.

Sharing the things I love with my children – whether nature or art – is one of my favorite parts of being a parent. Doing it one-on-one is even more powerful. Especially when we can find that sweet spot where connection just happens.

To read about our previous adventure together, check out What Happens When You Just Trust Kids to Play? Be sure to follow us on Facebook!