Deborah Woods

10/05/2026

You don’t have to know whether your child needs counseling before you call me.

That’s one of the reasons I offer a free parent consultation.

You can tell me what you’ve been noticing—what’s been happening at home or school, what you’ve already tried, what seems to make things better or worse, and what has you worried.

I’ll listen. I may ask some questions. And we’ll talk about what I’m hearing and what might be helpful for your child and family.

Sometimes that may mean play therapy. Sometimes parent work may be an important part of the answer. And sometimes our conversation may help you recognize that a different resource would be a better fit.

You don’t have to figure all of that out before you contact me.
That’s what the conversation is for.

Ready to talk? Visit deborahwoods.com and choose “Free Parent Consultation” to find a time that works for you.

10/02/2026

The spaceship is progressing nicely!

10/02/2026

A little humor for you today.

10/01/2026

Time to build a new spaceship!!!

10/01/2026

There are a lot of ways to say something.

With paint.
With clay.
With markers.
With a picture that makes absolutely no sense to anyone else.

With something carefully made.
With something furiously scribbled.
With something created, torn apart, and started again.

That’s one reason I love this room.

Children don’t always have words ready for what is happening inside them.

In here, words aren’t the only language available.

Sometimes I get to know a child by listening with my eyes.

09/30/2026

Sometimes a child shows us something before they can tell us about it.

A sad face.
Rain pouring down.
Something broken.
Someone standing alone.

It can be tempting for adults to immediately ask:
“Why did you draw that?”

But children don’t always know why.

And sometimes our questions ask them to turn an experience into words before they’re ready—or before words even exist for it.

So I notice.
I stay curious.
I make room for what the child is showing me without deciding too quickly what it means.

Because a picture of sadness doesn’t necessarily tell me why a child is sad.

But it may tell me:
There is something here worth staying with.

That is one of the things I love about play therapy. Children don’t have to begin by explaining themselves.

They can begin by showing us their world.

And we can begin by paying attention.

Deborah Woods, NCC
Helping grown-ups see what kids are showing us.

09/29/2026

The email comes home from school.

Your child hit someone.
Wouldn’t follow directions.
Had a meltdown.
Grabbed a toy.
Talked back.
Had a really hard day.

And suddenly it feels like you have one more parenting job to do.

You need to talk about it.
Make sure they understand.
Give a consequence.
Ask what happened.
Explain what they should have done instead.

But sometimes I give parents a different kind of homework:

Go home and play with your child.

That doesn’t mean the behavior doesn’t matter. And it doesn’t mean children never need limits, guidance, repair, or help learning new skills.

It means we don’t have to make children feel worse about what went wrong in order to help them do better.

Sometimes that little one has already spent the day being corrected, redirected, frustrated, overwhelmed, or struggling to manage something that was simply too much.

Another lecture may not be what helps.

A powerful playtime gives them something different:

Connection.
Attunement.
A little agency.
A chance to regulate.
A chance to feel capable.
A chance to experience, Mom or Dad still delights in being with me—even on a hard day.

And those experiences matter.

Because the email tells us what the child did.

Playtime may help us discover what the child needs.

So yes, sometimes when that email comes home, you have permission to put it down.

Go play.

SMALL MOMENTS ♥ BIG POSSIBILITIES

09/28/2026

WHILE A CHILD PLAYS…

She made a birthday cake.

Not quickly. Not casually.

She carefully worked with the Play-Doh, building layer upon layer. She added a candle. And then, in the world of her play, there was a birthday to celebrate.

Mine.

For a little while, we shared the experience she had created. There was a cake. There was a candle. There was celebration. And I was the one being celebrated.

I could come up with several ideas about what that might have meant.

Perhaps she was exploring what it feels like to celebrate someone.

Perhaps she was exploring what it feels like to be celebrated.

Perhaps something about birthdays mattered to her in ways I didn't yet understand.

Or perhaps, in that moment, celebrating was simply wonderful.

I don't have to choose an interpretation.

That's one of the things I value about children's play.

I can stay curious.

I can notice the care she put into creating the cake. I can notice the role she gave me. I can notice the delight and celebration that filled the moment we shared.

And I can allow the experience to matter without insisting that I know exactly what it means.

Sometimes the first task of understanding a child's play is simply to be fully present for what the child has invited us to experience.

09/27/2026

I love beautiful teacups.

Not because tea tastes better in them—although I’m willing to argue that it does.

And I love flowers. The unruly kind. The kind that spill over the edge of wherever you put them and refuse to look perfectly arranged.

I think I’ve always been drawn to small things that make an ordinary day feel a little more beautiful.

A pretty cup.
Flowers gathered from outside.
A wonderful smell.
Something delicious simmering on the stove.
A game waiting on the table.
A conversation that wanders somewhere unexpected.

Maybe that says something about me.
I don’t think the good parts of life are reserved for vacations, celebrations, or someday-when-things-settle-down.
I like finding them right here.

A little beauty.
A little curiosity.
A little delight.
And preferably, something lovely to drink it from.

What’s one small thing that makes an ordinary day feel special to you?

09/27/2026