Life often presents us with unexpected teaching moments, sometimes even disguised as a plate of cookies. Learning to share, understanding generosity, and grasping the profound joy of giving can be challenging lessons for children (and sometimes adults!). In our home, we believe in creating these memorable experiences, even if it means a little playful manipulation to drive a point home. And yes, rest assured, those cookies always get shared in the end!

Do you ever find yourself caught in that peculiar time of year, feeling a bit out of sync with the calendar? March, for instance, should be bursting with the promise of spring, the anticipation of Spring Break, and the joyful celebration of Easter. Yet, instead of vibrant energy, many of us find ourselves feeling perpetually cold, utterly exhausted, and perhaps a touch irritable. It’s a common sentiment, and in our family, we’ve even coined a term for it: the “Middle Season.”

My sister and I developed a theory about this unique period, which we affectionately call the “Middle Season.” It’s that transitional phase when the excitement of winter holidays—Thanksgiving, Christmas, and the dawn of a new year—has long faded. We’ve packed away the decorations, the skis are gathering dust, and the endless stream of festive parties and comforting, rich foods feels like a distant memory. Winter, despite its challenges, often brings with it a certain cozy charm. Who can resist a steaming bowl of their favorite soup, paired with hot, freshly baked bread for dipping? Or the simple indulgence of warm, gooey cinnamon rolls on a snowy morning? (Speaking of which, I have an amazing recipe for those, and with more snow on the way, perhaps it’s time for a surprise batch for the kids!)

However, by the time March rolls around, the charm of winter sustenance wears thin. We’re utterly over soups, stews, and casseroles. The thought of another freezing day holds no appeal. Yet, true spring hasn’t quite arrived. The ground may still be thawing, and the vibrant greens and floral scents of April are still just a dream. So, busting out light salads and lemon-infused dishes feels premature and out of place. This leaves us in a perplexing limbo – stuck in an awkward, itchy phase where we’re ready to move on, but there seems to be no clear path forward. It’s a period of collective seasonal fatigue, a longing for warmth and renewal that the weather just isn’t ready to deliver.

This “Middle Season” isn’t just about the weather; it often brings a psychological slump. Shorter days, lingering cold, and the general lack of vibrant outdoor activity can contribute to feelings of low energy, decreased motivation, and even a touch of the blues. It’s a time when our souls instinctively crave light, warmth, and a renewed sense of purpose, but the external environment doesn’t yet align with these inner desires. Recognizing this phenomenon allows us to be more intentional about how we navigate these weeks, turning potential doldrums into opportunities for connection and growth.

Understanding the “Middle Season” became our catalyst for change. Instead of passively waiting for spring to arrive, allowing ourselves to be pulled down by the lingering grayness, we decided to actively cultivate light and warmth within our home and hearts. This year, we’re fighting back! “Forget you, Middle Season!” became our rallying cry. Our family committed to doing things differently, determined to keep our spirits bright, even if the sun continued to play hide-and-seek.

One of the cornerstones of our strategy is our weekly family study. We rotate responsibilities, with each family member taking a different section of a chosen topic (often scripture-based, but sometimes focused on character traits or shared family values). This isn’t about rigid, academic lessons; it’s about making learning engaging and personal. Sometimes, it’s as simple as coloring in pictures to visually tell a story or watching an educational video that sparks discussion. Other times, it involves creating a giant blanket fort, snuggling up together, and reading aloud. These moments are often accompanied by a trusted and delicious snack, like those irresistible Salted Caramel Pretzel Snaps or a delightful batch of Churro Chex Mix. The key is variety, participation, and creating an atmosphere where everyone feels invested and connected. This proactive approach helps us maintain a sense of purpose and joy, even when the external world feels a bit dreary.

If you’re anything like me, the constant demand for novelty and variety in family activities can be utterly exhausting. It sometimes feels like the mental load of planning dinner every night – always needing a new idea, a fresh approach. But we’ve discovered that involving more people, expanding our circle, can bring an incredible richness to these moments. Inviting friends to lead a discussion or share a talent one night, for example, can open hearts and minds in profound new ways, offering fresh perspectives and making the experience less burdensome for just one parent.

This principle of “giving good gifts” extends beyond just planning activities; it permeates our daily interactions. Just last night, we focused our study on a single, powerful verse: Matthew 7:11. “If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!” This verse became especially relevant after a minor household drama that morning. Our two children had engaged in a passionate dispute over the last two waffles. Two kids, two waffles – seems simple enough, right? Not when one child felt entitled to both because the other had supposedly received an “extra” waffle the day before. Cue my internal eye-roll and a mental note to address this burgeoning sense of entitlement.

The lesson on giving good gifts was not just theoretical; it needed to be tangible. It required more than just words; it needed an experience that would resonate deeply with their young hearts. This insight led to what we now affectionately call “The Cookie Lesson.” It was a moment designed not to punish, but to illuminate, helping them grasp the joy and intrinsic reward of selfless generosity. These aren’t just abstract concepts; they are vital life skills and character traits that we strive to instill, one thoughtful, sometimes unconventional, lesson at a time.

That evening, after dinner, we gathered for our family study. I walked in with a plate containing five cookies – one for each member of our family. As we opened our scriptures, I began to nonchalantly eat one of the cookies myself. Soon, our eight-year-old daughter, her eyes wide with curiosity and a hint of longing, asked if she could have one. Her siblings quickly chimed in, their voices a chorus of hopeful requests. My response was firm and clear: “NO.”

The requests persisted, growing increasingly insistent, eventually leading to tears from my daughter. Now, I understand how that sounds – a mean parent depriving her children of cookies. But I let her cry, knowing my child and understanding that processing emotions, even difficult ones, is part of her growth. I then laid out my “logic”: “You all get treats at school, and I don’t. Who has had an extra treat this week?” They all sheepishly admitted they had. “So, if you add up all the extra treats you’ve received, I actually DESERVE these all to myself to make us equal.” This statement, of course, left them utterly confused. After a moment of stunned silence, one of them bravely articulated the counter-argument: “But if you have something good, shouldn’t you always want to share it? Especially if you have enough?”

And there it was. The breakthrough moment. Their own words perfectly encapsulated the essence of the lesson we were trying to teach. The initial “meanness” had opened a door for them to independently arrive at a profound truth. It was a powerful demonstration of experiential learning, far more impactful than any lecture could have been. The struggle, the confusion, and the eventual realization made the principle of sharing and generosity deeply personal and unforgettable. It wasn’t just a rule; it was a discovery they made themselves.

Ah, there it was – the “Aha!” moment. With their hearts softened and minds open, we then read the scripture together and discussed its profound implications. We talked about the inherent goodness in wanting to share positive things with others, even when it means we might take a little less for ourselves. We emphasized that this isn’t just “the right thing to do,” but a reflection of a higher principle: our Heavenly Father always observes our acts of kindness and generosity, blessing us simply for our sincere efforts to bless others. Just as a loving parent desires the best for their children, wanting to make them happy regardless of any perceived “deserving,” so too does our Heavenly Father want to bless us, simply because He loves us. He knows how to bring us joy and desires to do so unconditionally.

I explained to them, “Even when no one has had a treat, I make these cookies to share with all of you because I WANT TO BLESS YOU. It brings me joy to see you happy. It is the same with Him.” This connection between a parent’s love and divine love resonated deeply. It shifted their understanding from a transactional view of treats (“I deserve this because…”) to a relational one (“I share this because I love you and want you to be happy”). This lesson highlighted that true giving comes from a place of love and a desire to uplift others, not from a sense of obligation or a calculation of fairness. It cultivated a deeper sense of empathy and gratitude within them, understanding that blessings, both earthly and divine, flow most freely when our hearts are open and generous.

Following that unforgettable cookie lesson, we all joyfully ate the remaining cookies and continued our discussion about the verse for much longer than we ever would have if I hadn’t seized that applicable moment. You see, our family study isn’t about achieving a perfect, meticulously planned theological discourse. It’s about ongoing transformation, about evolving and growing together. True change, meaningful change, happens when we keep our eyes wide open, actively looking for opportunities to connect and teach, regardless of the season we’re in or the busyness of our lives. It’s about creating those spontaneous chances to talk, to share, and to learn from one another.

It’s not about orchestrating constant “teaching moments” in the traditional sense; kids have enough of those in school and daily life. Instead, it’s about fostering an environment where hearts are open, where discussions flow freely, and where everyone feels safe to express their thoughts and feelings. These aren’t just lessons about sharing cookies or understanding scripture; they are lessons in empathy, in communication, and in building an unshakeable family bond. Our journey is far from perfect, filled with its own share of sibling squabbles and parental frustrations, but we are trying. We are consistently striving to be more intentional, more present, and more loving, believing that these small, imperfect efforts are what truly forge resilient hearts and create lasting family legacies, no matter what “season” of life we find ourselves in.