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“I’m kind of like Saul, in the mad way,” my seven-year-old casually said as we watched Saul tear apart the tapestry in the David movie for the fourth or fifth time.

We’ve said it about her for a while—she feels fiercely. Her joy and excitement are intense, and her anger and sadness equally so. But until that day, I wasn’t sure she recognized her “big emotions” for herself.

A few weeks later, she was wandering the house with her nose in a book—as a bookworm normally does. “Hey, that’s kind of like me,” she said as she dropped her laundry off near the hamper. “Amelia Bedelia also has a wiggly tooth that just won’t budge!”

She’s one of the few kids in her class who hasn’t lost a tooth yet—a milestone she is desperate to reach.

My youngest, approaching the age of five, has her own little emotional identity forming, too. She’s tender and quick to apologize, when she’s not finding creative ways to turn our home into a ninja warrior course. We’ve watched her wrestle with feelings of insecurity as she tells us about the kids at school who run away from her at recess or simply asks us to spend just a few more minutes with her at bedtime.

Just recently, we watched the movie Boss Baby. At the point when Boss Baby reveals his mission to uncover the newest puppy stealing all the love from babies, my youngest snuggled in and asked me, “Mom, when we were babies, did you love Louie (our pug) more than us?”

I don’t write this as an endorsement for any particular story but as a reminder that stories not only give our kids a fresh perspective to see the world and themselves, but they also open opportunities for our kids to ask questions they might not know how to ask otherwise. Sometimes my anger gets the best of me, and I don’t know what to do about it. Is it normal to feel this way? I feel like I don’t matter, and I just want someone to pay attention to me. Where do I belong?

Our kids will inevitably find pieces of themselves in the stories they encounter. That's part of what makes stories so powerful and beautiful. They name feelings and experiences we might not know how to fully express.

However, if we're not paying attention, our children may linger in the parts of the story that resonate most deeply with their earthly struggles and ambitions. They may begin to believe they are defined by their anger, their insecurity, their loneliness, or their desire to be noticed. As parents, we have the privilege of walking alongside them as they wrestle with the versions of themselves they see in stories and what is ultimately true.

When my daughter sees herself in Saul's temper, I want to help her recognize that feeling deeply is normal, but it does not define her. When my youngest identifies with the character who feels overlooked or left behind, I want her to know that belonging isn't something she has to earn.

As we head into the summer months, it can be tempting to use stories simply as a distraction while I try to get things done with kids at home full time. Go read in your room. Find a show you both like. I’m confident that will still happen. But I want to challenge myself this summer to slow down and sit in stories with my kids—to listen closely to the questions they ask, the characters they identify with, and the pieces of themselves they reveal.

If you have children, young or old, I encourage you to find some time and do the same. Find a show to watch with your teenagers. Pick up the book your kids are reading for that free personal pizza. Start an audiobook for the family road trip. Let them pick the Spotify playlist. Play the video game with them.

While it's important that we care deeply about the stories our kids are hearing, it's equally important that we ourselves intentionally walk alongside our children in their stories, listening for the ways stories speak into their lives and helping them discern truth about their identity and belonging in light of a greater story.